As I wait for everyone to get up and find out what has been emptied from Santa's sack
I have remembered a short article I wrote about my dark addiction, so this is a pearoast of sorts - I've not posted it here before and in the spirit of recycling.....

I realise this isn't a confessional site, but having been brought up Roman Catholic I just can't help unburdening myself whenever possible.

You see, I have a problem, an addiction some might call it. I've never been the addictive type, I mean all kids like sherbet dabs and then we graduate onto the occasional cider and before you know it you're being sick outside of Tescos after having one too many glasses of cheap wine.

But this isn't the problem I want to discuss here, no my present problem is far, far worse than that. I'm addicted to online kittens.



Ever since I got broadband I have discovered the wealth of free kitten pictures available online.

It all started quite innocently; someone suggested I change over to Firefox instead of Internet Explorer. Then I found you could use this thing called Stumble Upon, all you had to do was tell it what sort of things you were interested in, and that's where my problems started.

Let's be honest here, everyone who has a heart loves to look at cute little furry things; kittens are beautiful, playful and brighten your day.

So I clicked on the kittens box, thinking that maybe I'd just get the occasional image and no one would know, it can't hurt can it?


Well, sadly that's what I thought, but the first time I clicked Stumble I found some kitten pictures and I was fascinated at the variety of colours, sizes, long haired, short haired, different settingsand the different poses!

I kept clicking and looking at more and more kittens; kittens being cute, kittens being bad, in boxes, lying on tables, on beds, curled up asleep, on the prowl, any way I could get them, I just wanted to see more and more kittens.

I was sucked me in to the fluffeh world of hardcore kittens.

I started to go looking for pictures - something I'd never done before and certainly wouldn't admit to anyone. Before I knew it I was spending hours searching and viewing more and more kitten pics.

To my eternal shame I even got myself a Youtube account so I could look for videos too.


I soon knew where to go looking for fresh kittens; I had Rate my Kitten bookmarked. Then things just started to spiral out of control.


My need for fluffiness was taking over my life so much that I started to cruise local pet shops in the hope of seeing some real live kittens. I signed up to websites where I could meet other kitten lovers; some will even put their kittens on webcam.

My friends stopped inviting me over to their house because they knew I would only come if they had cats.


When my friends started to notice my fixation one of them sat me down and discussed my needs. They made me realise that I was loosing touch with the real world, that I probably couldn't keep a kitten myself, that my fixation wasn't based upon real life kittens, kittens who need feeding, who use a litter tray, who scratch the furniture and leave fur everywhere, they really laid it on the line for me - they even mentioned fleas. My expectations for kittens just weren't real and until I could accept that kittens are not just loveable bundles of fluff but real, living, breathing creatures, with needs then I simply won't be able to handle keeping a kitten of my own.



So I'm trying each day to cut down on the amount of kittens I look at online. It's not easy, but it was beginning to ruin my life; when you're in the pub it's far easier to admit to being addicted to alcohol or drugs even, but not teh fluffeh kittens.

One of the most effective ways to keep me away from them I've discovered is to look at online porn; there's no shame, everyone does it.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Thu 25 Dec 2008, 7:59, 4 replies)

Caffeine
Not the hot beverage with a terrible smell that reminds you of history teachers' breath, nor the 'one-step-down-from-cocaine' energy drinks you find at the end of the supermarket drinks aisle.

For some reason, my caffeine addiction lies right in the middle - Coke & Pepsi, 'cola', 'soda pop' or indeed 'fizzy juice', if you happen to be a bell-end.

Juice is from fruit.

And anyone who uses the term 'fat coke' needs a lobotomy. Through their arse.

Anyway... there's something horribly embarassing about getting addicted to caffeine. You know it's your fault for drinking too much of it. You know when you should've stopped and you know that bloody headache is only going away if you get some caffeine in you or ride it out for about two days.

In particular, I remember hearing about someone who worked the night shift having to be weaned off of coffee. Then, I laughed at what I percieved to be absurd. When I realised I was drinking 2-litre bottles of a substance with higher doses of caffeine than coffee (honest, look it up. There was a graph and everything) I felt like a right tit.

So at some point I say "screw this, I'm going clean". Someone once told me that you need to stay off the bog-brown demon for a month or so to be free of its effects, and then must stay off it forever.

Then again, this same person once drugged me unconcious so she could sew up a hole in my jeans.

So, I relapsed. After a few years I've gotten into a system of moderation. (switching from bottles to cans helped) I'm starting to think I'm just addicted to the cola taste and the caffeine addiction happens regardless. I've left and gone back to it so many times that I don't think I'll bother giving up again. It's just the regular varieties too; diet and caffiene-free just don't taste nearly as good.

I'll put up with the slightly yellow teeth, the rubbish sleep cycles and the occasional headache-causing overdose. It doesn't even matter if its Coke or Pepsi, I migrate between the two with relative serenity. And I'll probably drink it until I die. Of dead teeth or massive coronary failure.

Because it tastes so damn nice.

I love you, cola-flavoured drink with vegetable extracts.
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Thu 25 Dec 2008, 2:23, 5 replies)

My mum is addicted to 'knickers'
My mother appears to have a strange addiction of referring to the underwear of me and my elder brother as 'knickers'.

Whilst I'm fairly certain that knickers refers to undergarments worn by females, she's been referring to the boxer shorts of her two sons as 'knickers' now for 22 sodding years without any adequate reasoning.

Please click 'I like this!' to show your support and make her stop before she blurts it out in public and embarasses me so hard my brain parachutes out the back of my head.

Sorry for the mildly-misleading subject title, but surely you'll agree it's for a worthy cause
( Iki I think my camel is dead., Thu 25 Dec 2008, 2:09, 1 reply)

This evening
I watched a man who had drunk his bodyweight reverse his car at speed across a car park and into a wall.

He narrowly missed my (sober) brother's car and dragged his newly shortened Rover 200 off the wall and into the town centre. Had my brother been outside 30 seconds earlier he'd have wiped out him and his friend.

As we drove home, we spotted him planted into a set of traffic lights and having his hair held back by police.

Remember; if you must pursue lady alcohol, don't even think about getting behind the wheel. Sorry for lack of lulz, but what I've seen tonight has been a very sobering experience.
(brackishboy cannot be named for legal reasons, Thu 25 Dec 2008, 1:41, Reply)

My addiction
I was living in an apartment behind a large perfume advertisement, in New York. I was some sort of seemingly artsy hunk, with a nice beard, at the time.

I must have been the only person in the world who didn't know who she was. She jumped into a taxi I was in and demanded "drive" (the cheek!).

I asked her who she was.

"I'm a dancer," came the reply, "I love to dance!"

Then an old man came into the apartment.
"You must be there tomorrow!" He demanded of her.
"I don't care about tomorrow!" She exclaimed "I only care about today." (Because she as a total free spirit and shit.)

Then she fucked off to some premiere or something, presumably because by the time tomorrow came round, it was today, therefore she cared about it.

Sometimes I wonder, if she has forgotten. But I will not because bla bla bla Chanel no.5. That's right, romance is now so homogenized all we need is brief snapshots of a trite cliche-ridden love story to sell you shitty perfume that smells of piss and jizz.

And that's how I beat my addiction.
( Paedosmile service with a grin., Wed 24 Dec 2008, 23:22, 6 replies)

ooh....just a few
Heroin
Benzos
Ketamine
Amphetamine
Cocaine
Cannabis
Alcohol
MDMA
Acid
Magic Mushrooms
Sex
Spending money

13 years of using daily.

How low have I sunk?

Financially bankrupt.
Crim record for dealing, crim damage and violence. Crown and Magistrates Court,
Getting parental home raided,
Sucked cock for drugs,
Slept with skanky men for a bed for the night and drugs,
Lost numerous jobs,
Lost numerous friends,
Severly pissed off family,
Stomach ulcer,
Burst vessels in my nose,
Scars from self harm and smashing various objects over other peoples heads,
Chunks of teeth missing,
Heart strain,
Eating disorder,
10 years (and counting) prescription of anti-depressents...
...am sure there is more...may need a later post...memories abit fucked these days...

I am an addict. I will always be an addict. Being an addict isn't just a reliance on substances its a spiritual deficiency that relies on outside things to make you feel good when there really is a massive void inside that needs to be worked on. Putting substances down doesn't make it go away. It manifests itself other stuff and behaviours can define it.

I know all this because.......4 years of therapy, 6 months and one week of intensive rehab. Continuing ongoing daily recovery work...its something that is always there.

No booze for me this christmas.

Im coming up 18 months abstinent.
Im coming up to 30 years old.
(Oops....did I say that out loud cos I really bloody want to., Wed 24 Dec 2008, 20:31, 7 replies)