How I Spent My Holiday…

See what happens when you have a major meltdown and take some time away from your blog – the bastards go and change it all! I’ve spent twenty minutes just finding the New Post button. If this post ever goes live, it’ll be a bleeding miracle…

Okay, so it’s safe to say the past year hasn’t been one of my finest. In fact it’s been pants. I’ve veered away from Funny Internet Dating and blundered into Whiney Doctors-Really-Get-On-My-Tits territory, but hey! I’m still here. I’m still breathing. I still have a stupid sense of humour. Life is just great.

In the last six months I’ve experienced just about every emotion known to man – well, to woman, because we all know that blokes don’t have emotions. Except maybe joy when Arsenal score a goal. Or envy when they spot someone with a bigger willy. But my mind’s wandering again…

I guess it’s normal to go through an angry stage when you’ve just been landed with a life-altering illness. I think I’ve come out the other side, but who knows. Maybe morphing into a pre-menstrual monster is something I’ll do regularly from now on. Mind you, if you spoke to The Ex, he’d say I’ve always been one…

Aaaaaarrrggghhh!

But enough of my madness, I really wanted to share all the things I’ve learned or discovered in the last six months, things that may help you if you’re ever find yourself laid up on the sofa with a horrible illness:

• Wearing pyjamas, a dressing gown and slippers outside of the house,  at any point during the day, will elicit strange looks and laughter. Really, what’s the problem here, people? I’m talking fleecy jammies, a towelling robe and – well, you’ve seen the slippers. It’s not as if I’m parading through town in a Babydoll nightie or crotchless knickers and a peephole bra. And I usually slip a jumper over the top if I’m going shopping…

• Four days and three nights is the absolute maximum you can spend in the same set of clothes before you start gagging on your own stench. Three days is pushing it to be honest but, you can just about stretch to a fourth if you keep squirting yourself with air freshener. Although this masks your odour,  unfortunately  it does absolutely nothing to keep the flies away.

• When a crop of cold sores break out on the end of your nose, you really do look like Rudolph. Yeah, I know he looks kinda cute, but believe me,  it’s not such a great look on a middle-aged woman in a clashing fuschia-pink dressing  gown.  I think it’s something to do with the way ME affects your immune system, but I seem to always have cold sores – on my nose, up my nose and around my eyes. And people are so rude; they stare and make grimacing faces as they step away from you in case it’s contagious. I’ve found the only way to deal with this situation is to step closer, as if you’re about to confide a delicious gossipy rumour, and say, ‘Yes, such a shame. I’m absolutely riddled with herpes.’
                                                                                                                        

• The body is a wonderfully skilled feat of genetic engineering. Until it goes wrong and then it’s about as effective as a man trying to find your G-Spot. Even I can’t believe how you cannot have the strength in your arm to lift a cup a tea or chop a poxy vegetable for dinner, or how, at the end of the day, you really do not have the energy to get undressed, and just collapse into bed, shaking with the effort of getting your fat arse upstairs. It is truly incredible, but it’s true! As evidence I should have kept a vlog of me looking like Rudolph in a tea-stained, fushcia-pink dressing gown and Eeyore slippers, crawling up the stairs to have a pee. Amazing.

• Underneath all that chemical dye, my hair is, in fact, white. I haven’t been able to dye my hair since Christmas last year because I just can’t keep my arms up long enough to do it. So I’m now sporting about eight inches of grey roots – Wrong! Underneath all that Auburn Sunset hair dye, my hair is pretty much all pure white. I don’t know whether it’s been this pale for a while or whether I’ve literally gone white overnight from the shock of not being able to reach my tea cup, but one thing’s for sure, if I ever manage to dye it again, the colourant is gonna react reallywell on white hair: Auburn Sunset is going to be more like flaming flourescent orange. It’s gonna cause a major clash with my dressing gown…

  

  Arrrggghhh!

• Chronic Fatigue or ME is ‘all in yer ‘ead, love!’ I don’t know if this is the same overseas, but in the UK, ME is very much an imaginary condition. In true British-Stiff-Upper-Lip fashion, we are often told, ‘Pull yourself together, chaps! A jolly good dose of psychotherapy and graded exercise routines will have soon have you back in the trenches!’ Despite the fact that 250,000 people in the UK suffer with this illness – a quarter of whom are pretty much bed-bound for decades of their life – our government spends less money each year researching the causes and possible treatments, than it spends on researching hay-fever. True, dat. And in the meantime we have no effective treatments or even the sniff of a cure. I won’t go on (too much) but it’s pretty much the only illness that evokes no sympathy or understanding from our society – and that includes the medical profession.

•  Twitter is God. Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve slagged it off in the past, but it’s been a real link to the outside world while I’ve been ill. I haven’t been able to spend more than about 20 minutes on the computer at a time, so I couldn’t keep up with my blog or your fabulous blogs and I was missing the company. Because the messages are so short I’ve been able to keep in touch with you wonderful peeps on Twitter. You  do find out who your friends are when you hit a crisis, and you lot have been stupendous (posh British word for awesome)     😀

Am I Hosting a Porn Site Here, or What?

I’ve had some pretty disturbing search engine terms appear on the blog recently – so strange, in fact, I’m wondering if people are  confusing me with somethingverykinky.com. And if  they’d only leave their e-mail addresses, I’d be glad to answer their questions or offer some sensible advice:

How do you draw a penis with a keyboard? ~ An excellent question! Keyboards aren’t terribly well-known for their artistic qualities: I’d suggest using a pencil.
Groping mummy ~ Get some therapy, you pervert!
Too much soy milk hurts my arse~ Stop sitting on the cartons then, duh!
I’m going to have a heart attack.Oh my God! Oh my God! ~ Disconnect Google, love and phone a bloody ambulance!
How to have a flying human cock ~ that’s easy! Chop it off and lob that pesky little sucker out the nearest window.
What does Heroin look and smell like? ~ How the friggin’ Henry would I know? Do I look like DrugsRUs?
How do I reply to, Can I have your number? on the internet?~ Now this one’s a toughie…umm… how about Yes  No?
 Where to buy penis stockings? ~ See Bernie. She crochets a beautiful line in willy-warmers.
Tights for my penis ~ Jeeze! I just told you – see Bernie!
A picture of a pair of mens’ legs sticking out of a cow’s bottom ~ WTF?! Get out of here, and don’t come back!
Where can I buy Star War’s condoms? ~ Well, that depends – were you looking for a specific type, like The Dark Invader? Or the Chewbacca range for large and hairy ones? Or the ribbed Star War’s rubbers with a special head shaped like R2D2? Maybe you’re a single male suffering from Obsessive-Complulsive Disorder? If so, you’ll be wanting the Han(d)s Solo. Or, if you have a really tiny winky and your partner often complains that she doesn’t know when you’ve started, try our brand-new Yoda condoms. Fitted with a specially formulated heat device, once installed, your prophylactic will cheerfully announce, ‘Inside you, I am’.    

Image via Wikipedia

 

And I thought I was weird!
Maybe I start a new blog-hop called Strange Search Engine Terms Sunday. What do you think?

What Every Guy Wants for Valentine’s Day…

Image via Wikipedia

This is the post I so wish I’d written. When I read it on Ellen’s Guide to Bad Internet Dating, I peed myself, laughing! Hope you enjoy as much as I did!

I keep hearing ads on the radio for ‘what to get your guy for valentine’s day’.  They tout everything from sweaters to watches to romantic trips to whatever. 

Duh, it’s not that hard.  Sure, I don’t have a guy this Valentine’s Day (or for any Valentine’s Day in recent memory for that matter), but it doesn’t matter.  I know men.  I know what they like and what makes them happy (I just usually choose to do the opposite). 

It doesn’t have to be expensive, or cost a thing, for that matter.  It doesn’t have to be wrapped in a bow or gift wrapped in any  way at all.  It’s really no secret, but just because I’m a giver and want to help those of you that are stumped on what to get your guy for Valentine’s Day, I’m going to share my top secret, make-em-cry and be sooo nice to you the rest of the day present.

What does every man want for Valentine’s Day?  Regardless of age, height, weight, socioeconomic status, bank balance or anything else it’s plain and simple.  He wants a blow job.  Duh. 

I for one feel that those things need to be earned and not just handed out willy nilly.  Actually, to be perfectly honest, I’m not a huge fan.  Any wonder I’m single?

*note – this gift also works for Christmas, new years, birthdays, anniversaries, st. patrick’s day, kwanza, hannukah, president’s day or any random Tuesday (or monday, wednesday …. you get the idea) 

Ellen has as much luck dating as I do, and it’s never right! She’s funny, insightful and gorgeous! And she knows what every guy wants for Valentine’s Day! Could there be a more complete package?

Thanks, sweetie, for letting me steal your post. Happy Friday!

How to improve your sex life…

Image by Fouquier via Flickr

 

• Find yourself a partner!  😉
                   



 

How not to behave on a date…

Image via Wikipedia

It’s that season. Everyone’s looking for a jolly good rogering love, so I thought I’d devote a couple of posts to great date etiquette. We’ve just had Things You Really Shouldn’t Say On A Date, and today, for your titillation, here is How Not To Behave On A Date…

Don’t:

• forget to shower
• forget to wear clothes
• turn up in fancy dress
• arrive late
• arrive on a camel
• arrive with someone else
• forget to arrive at all
• get yourself arrested
• do a strip at the dinner table
• ask to meet his parents
• use baby talk
• cut up his food
• wind him
• ask if he needs a wee wee
• talk to your food
• pretend your food talks back

Only follow these simple guidelines if you’re serious about dating. If you’re only going out because there’s naff all on TV, then have some real fun and DO all of the above. Not sure where you’d find the camel though….        😉

 

10 things guys should never say on a first date…

Image by sninky-chan via Flickr

• My penis is called Mr Winkey ~ Do I need to elaborate? No, I thought not.
• Do you like it doggy style?  Maybe, but you’ve just lost the chance of ever finding out. Introducing anything sexual on a first date is like signing your own death warrant. A girl wants to be wooed, not rude.
• I live with my mum ~ and I’ve never had to take responsibility for any of my actions, or do my own washing. You won’t ever make a steak and kidney pie to match my mum’s, but I’ll expect you to spend your life trying. And laundering my Y-fronts.
• Hi, my name’s Stuart and I’ve written a book ~ if a bloke ever says this to you on a date, take my advice and run! Don’t look back, just run. Run like your arse is on fire.
• Can I kiss you? What a wussy-wufty thing to say! But it tells me everything I need to know: this guy is an insecure schoolboy incapable of taking the lead. He needs to man up and grow a pair.  Instead of asking permission, he should just bloody well do it!
• You look much younger in your photo ~ crikey, and that’s before he’s seen you naked. Imagine how cherished he’ll make you feel when he’s got your flabby thighs wrapped around his neck.
• God! Did you not ask anyone how big your bum looked when you put those jeans on? See above.
• I’m on antidepressants, and/or I cry a lot ~ just put the poor bastard out of his misery right there and then, and stab him with a steak knife. Seriously, if he coughs up this much intimate info on a first date, he’s way too happy in his own wretchedness, and clearly not yet ready to let go. If you haven’t got the stomach for murder, walk away. Now. Before you’re begging him for Prozac.
• Are those for real? Nobody’s ever made this comment to me as it’s pretty damned obvious I’ve never had a boob job; who in their right mind would pay  for a couple of fried eggs (penny-sweet-sized) boobies? But rather more endowed friends have assured me this is a common question. Ye Gods!
• I’m still a virgin ~ only acceptable if your date is aged sixteen. If he’s reached forty and claims never to have done the dirty, then don’t be fooled; he’s either lying or he has no pecker. And God help us all if he really is a middle-aged innocent. I mean, who wants to re-live that particular cherry-popping moment – ‘No, love, technically you’re still a virgin. It doesn’t count if you come in your pants.’

10 things women should never say on a first date…

Image via Wikipedia

• All men are bastards ~ yeah yeah, I know this is your personal religion, the mantra that keeps you going through all those no-hopers, but let me break it to you gently – the person opposite, your date for the evening, is in fact a bloke. He’ll take it personally, honest. And he might not even be a git; there has to be one good ‘un for every ninety-nine wankers you date. Doesn’t there?
• I want a baby ~ utter this shocking sentiment and it’ll be like learning to read all over again: See Tom Run Home to Mummy. However much your biological clock is chiming, however much you admire this guy’s jeans genes, however horny you are, DON’T ever mention the ‘baby’ word on a first date. Even if you are only talking carrots on the menu.
• Sorry, what was your name again? I know there’s been a few – Tom and Andy and Mitch and a couple of Davids, three Dicks and a William, but do try to focus, love. How would you feel if he called you Amanda? (If your name wasn’t actually Amanda, I mean. ‘Cos if you were called Amanda, I’m sure you’d be thrilled that he got your name right and didn’t confuse you with Deirdre or Ethel.) If you’re really useless with names or you suffer from amnesia, then surreptitiously jot down his moniker on a Post-It and stick it to your wine glass. Problem sorted.
• Shall I tell you about the book I’ve written? No, no, no, no, no! Unless you’re Stephen King, just NO! Nobody wants to hear a word-for-word account of the novel you’ve written, especially if your bland e-mails show you can’t actually string two interesting sentences together, and you have all the personality and charm of a dead flea! (It’s okay. Any second now I’ll stop hyperventilating. Breathe in! one, two, three. Out! one, two, three…)
• What’s your star sign? Now I know you’re thinking compatibility and how long before you’re forced to shell out for a birthday pressie, but he’s thinking ‘weirdo’. Men hate anything that smells remotely New Age (except for his festering socks, of course…) It may seem like a perfectly innocent, innocuous question to you, but to him, it’s witchcraft. Unless he’s wearing a hand-knitted rainbow-coloured jumper that smells of patchouli oil, then he’s an honourary girlie, so ask away!      😉    

Hey, dude! I'm a Virgo...

• I love you! See Tom Run. Again. Yes, you may like or lust after your date, but never mention the other ‘L’ word, even in jest. Or as reference to the food or the ambience of the restaurant. In fact, to be on the safe side, avoid all words beginning with ‘L’. Unless your date’s name’s Leo. Or Lionel. Or Luigi.
• Just a glass of water and a breadstick for me. I’m on a diet ~ despite everything the media tells you, your date wants a woman not a bloody stick-insect. Ever heard that well-known, deeply philosophical phrase – ‘More cushion for the pushin”? Honestly, be normal. If you show a healthy appetite for grub, you’re showing  you’ve got an insatiable appetite for er…other things…
• So, how big’s your doodah?  Have I taught you nothing? Don’t go there! Before you know it, you’ll have seventy-five pictures of his pecker in your inbox. He’ll have drawn a smiley face on one, added a beret to another and gone Brazilian for the third. If you’re desperate to know, ‘accidentally’ drop a beermat and take a discreet peek at his goods under the table. I said, discreet! That means no poking!
• I see dead people ~ you may well be attuned to the inner vibes of the late Princess Diana and Michael Jackson, but for the love of Mars bars and other things holy, don’t let on! Seriously, you’ll freak him out! He’s a bloke. His idea  of spirituality probably means getting laid in a churchyard during full moon. Have a quiet word with his dead granny instead. Tell her she’s looking great for her age, and with any luck she’ll haunt him into asking you out for a second date.    😉
• Technically I’m still a man… On second thoughts, say it anyway just to see the look on his face!   🙂

Ten reasons why internet dating sucks…

   

Image via Wikipedia

Goodness, where to start? I’ll try to be objective, not rant (too much) and avoid using potentially slanderous phrases such as ‘All men on dating sites are wankers’. I said I’d try, but I’m promising nothing..

Okay, this one’s for you, Max: 10 reasons why internet dating sucks…

• It’s not private ~ Although your initial registration details remain confidential, the rest of your information – name, age, photo, hometown, hobbies and profile story – is all accessible to millions via the big ol’ World Wide Web. Yeah, I know there’s a clue in the title  Internet dating, but  still, you’d expect a degree of privacy. It’s a bit like being in the pub with your best mates. You knock back a double vodka and huddle in to whisper ‘I’ve got chlamydia’ only to find the music’s stopped, nobody’s chatting and you’ve just blasted your innermost thoughts to a bunch of perfect strangers.
  Not too embarrassing, then…
•  It’s limiting ~ You’re restricting yourself to ‘meeting’ only those who spend time online. If this is your only form of dating, you’ll never get to meet all those other perfectly eligible men who wouldn’t be seen dead wearing someone else’s clothes on an online dating site. Honestly. Some people just don’t know how to live…
• First impressions count ~ Suppose a user isn’t comfortable with the written word? Or doesn’t know how to put his personality across? Maybe someone’s dyslexic? Or has uploaded an unflattering photo. Perhaps he doesn’t actually resemble Shrek in daylight. You may dismiss someone perfectly thick nice because his punctuation isn’t up to scratch or his picture’s blurry.
• Users tend to confuse dating with mating ~ Now, dating may well lead to mating – in fact we rather hope it will – and mating can, of course, occur without the dating, but the words DATING SITE should give users a hint – most of us are there to date, NOT shag ourselves senseless with a variety of strange men. And approaching a woman with ‘Yo! You’re hot! I’d like to rodger your brains out’ is NOT the way to ask for either!
• It still carries a social stigma ~ Telling people you’re dating online is like announcing you’ve got leprosy. You’ll get all the usual comments – ‘God! You must be really desperate!‘ or ‘Only losers and psychos use those sites!‘ and my personal favourite, ‘Can’t you find a man the normal way, then?‘
• You don’t know who you’re getting ~ It’s much easier to fabricate a persona and keep the pretence going online because you’re dealing only with the written word. All those telltale signs of dishonesty like avoidance of eye-contact are impossible to interpret over a computer screen so you have no way of knowing whether the other person is truthful or not.
• It’s too rational ~ Falling in love isn’t logical. It’s not based on height or earning capacity, it happens through chemistry. Love is all about feelings and emotions. Dating site profiles deal with personal information. You’re choosing and rejecting potential mates by making rational decisions, whereas in real life, we choose partners by our emotional responses.

 

• It’s a false reality ~ Online social interaction is quite different to face-to-face contact. Normal rules don’t seem to apply. If I make a comment to a stranger in a shop, chances are we’ll strike up a friendly conversation. Online I’ll probably be ignored. Worse still, my message could be ‘Unread and Deleted’. I might only be saying ‘Hey, great sense of humour!’ or something similarly banal and non-threatening, but that user has taken one look at my picture, barfed and deleted me! Not only is it downright rude, but it’s become the normal, expected way to behave.
• It’s 2D ~ in a real life situation we use our Spidey senses to determine how we feel about someone. Our brain subconsciously assesses the other person’s appearance, body language, facial expressions, tone of voice, eye contact, mannerisms, personal smell etc. We can’t do this online. Instead we have to filter a limited amount of information through only one sense – our eyes. No wonder I keep ending up with dorks!
• It’s full of todgers ~ Honest to God I’ve never seen so many peckers in my whole life! Fat ones, skinny ones, short ones, thick ones, bent ones, hairy ones, bald ones! It’s never right! If I met a guy in my local, he sure as hell wouldn’t whip out his todger before he’d even said ‘Hello’! Online it seems to be the new male form of flirting. God help us!

             Over to you – have I missed anything?

  

The Tiny Translation Guide part 2

Image by The Library of Congress via Flickr

And now to translate the men’s profiles!

Athletic ~ spends all this free time at the gym. Will expect you to be just as obsessed disciplined. Carrying a few extra pounds ~ think Johnny Vegas but without the humour.
Average ~ could be anything from the Elephant Man to the Seven Dwarves.
Sporty ~ spends every evening playing X Box.
Adventurous ~ desperate for a threesome. Bring a friend.
Independent ~ you’re never getting your hands on this guy’s front-door key.
Up for a laugh ~ an alcoholic
Uninhibited ~ has a flatulence problem.
Romantic ~ a complete wuss.
Affectionate ~ groping in public really turns him on.
Passionate ~ horny.
Loyal ~ a stalker.
Sensitive ~ mummy’s boy. Don’t upset him, or he’ll cry.
Artistic ~ unemployed and broke, but you will get an over-the-top, gushy handwritten poem on your birthday.
Mature ~ much older than he’s admitting.
Distinguished ~ ancient. This one’ll complain of prostate problems but luckily, he’ll be napping before he gets to the gory details.
Good looking ~ looks great modelling white Calvin Klein underpants, but ask him to do anything more challenging, and he’s screwed.
Just an ordinary guy ~ is as boring as fuck. Has no personality at all and resorts to chatting about the weather. Thinks your conversation is scintillating. He looks at you with adoring eyes and a soppy grin. Reminds you of a puppy.
Bit of a hippie ~ showers once a fortnight and believes in sleeping around.
An entrepreneur ~ sells  stolen goods out of the back of a battered white van.
Friendship First ~ he’s impotent.
Not looking for casual sex ~ You’ve accidentally clicked on a woman’s profile. Go back to the blokes’ page.
Gone past the clubbing scene ~ embarrassed to be seen in public since he started dancing like his dad.
Likes to really let go in the bedroom ~ a premature ejaculator.
Recently separated ~ and feeling rejected. Has major trust issues. Will need lots of reassurance and cuddling. Can you be arsed?
Loves riding my motorbike ~ having a midlife crisis.
An old-fashioned kind of guy ~ he wears the trousers, now get in that kitchen and cook him a roast.
Looks aren’t important ~ he hasn’t had sex in years. If he doesn’t get some soon, his scrotum’s gonna spontaneously combust.
Likes to show a girl a good time ~ after a night with this guy, you won’t walk straight for a week.
Looking for an older woman ~ has unresolved mummy issues.
Looking for a younger woman ~ he’s a pervert.

Even more ridiculous ways to find lurve…

• Attend a stripping party: Tell a friend her house looks shabby, and then suggest she holds a decorating party, inviting everyone (single) she knows. Zoom in on a potential mate and offer to hold his (scraping) tool. If he starts flicking gluey strips of jaded wallpaper in your hair, you know you’ve pulled.
• Through a friend: The perfect way to find love because your mate can pre-screen for undesirable qualities and deep-rooted psychological neuroses. She can pre-screen, but it doesn’t mean she will, though… A mutual mate once set me up with a moody, miserable bastard who hated women.  ‘Why didn’t you tell me he was a moody, miserable bastard who hated women? I moaned, a week later. ‘Well,’ she said, with a shrug, ‘You’re funny and lighthearted. We thought you might bring out his happy side. And it gave us a break for a couple of nights…’
• Through a hobby: Is there an activity you enjoy doing at home? Could you turn it into a club for others to join? 

Oops! Maybe not...

• Venture into a Man’s World: Try DIY stores, golf ranges, garages, football matches – any place where men congregate! But, unless you’ve been chugging tequila slammers all night, probably best to avoid changing rooms or the gents’ toilets… Dress fluffy and do the whole ‘I’m a girl’ *flutter eyelashes* I need a big, strong man to check my oil/explain the offside rule/advise on the best screw fittings.’  If you’re not immediately surrounded by a flock of flashy peacocks, fall back on Plan B – cry.
• Join a Health Club: Every day, across the country, millions of fit, attractive, gays are pumping iron…Whoops! I meant guys, of course…  😉
• Throw a party: Invite everyone you know. Ask your friends to bring other friends, and their friends to – Just open-house to everyone! But, be prepared for vomit on the lawn, up your stairs and in the dishwasher. And don’t, for the love of Mars bars and other things holy, advertise your Singles Will Mingle event on Facebook, unless you’re prepared for: Confirmed Guest Attendance – 7, 631 …
• Advertise for lurve:  Pop a notice in your local Spar, pub or post office. Make it stand out from all the usual Mature female WTLM male for companionship and walks by the sea. Go for something bold, eye-catching and unique. Old Banger, free to a good home. One former negligent owner. Bodywork’s a bit knackered and dented in places. Engine’s sluggish, but she just needs turning on and given a bloody good revving! 😉                                

Old but still beautiful!