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90Nz0 wrote this poem for me, to celebrate the awesomeness that is me, and the wonders of CHINESE FOOD

WICCA !
Wicca is my favorite girl,
In the entire whole wide world,
One day I'd like for her to adopt me,
and her antics would make me grin with glee.

I would say that I would marry her,
but her boyfriend wouldn't like that,
we would eat all the CHINESE FOODS
and get really really fat.

She makes me wish I lived next to her,
so I could nip next door.
And come round and play Mario Party
as long as the beans don't make her farty.




Courtesy of that shitbag Azra3l :)




I live in unabashed sin respectable and legal married bliss with the rather lovely Badger and despite what he might say, I don't bloody snore, and even if I did it's a fair revenge for having to pick up his pants from the bathroom floor.

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» Advice from Old People

My gran is losing the plot a bit these days, but she is my hero.
She was a single mother, worked all her life, passionate about politics and the rights of the worker, and has never let anyone make her ashamed of who she is and where she is from.

I love her to bits.

She's given me four very important bits of advice: -

1) Always earn enough to pay your own rent, even if your man is paying it for you - you never know when you will need to be independent, and having a life outside your home stops you becoming a clingy, needy individual.

2) Never let any man talk down to you. Ever.

3) Have as much sex as humanly possible, with no guilt, no shame, and no regrets. She taught me that I should have sex because I wanted to, not because someone forced me into it, but that to deny myself pleasure because of a misguided fear of damaging my reputation was stupid. Her biggest regret is that she didn't put it about more as a young woman.

4) People in power only hold that power because you allow them to. If they abuse that power, you can take it away from them. This applies to relationships, employers, landlords, councils and the Government.

I love my gran I do.
(Thu 19th Jun 2008, 16:57, More)

» The Onosecond

I was in work one afternoon
when I got hit with a bout of cystitis. Not a pleasant thing for us girlies, and I was in crippling pain.

My boss agreed to send me hom, and I sent a text message to my then boyfriend telling him 'I'm on my way home, got cystitis, everyone in work now thinks you are some kind of superstud and that we were at it like bunnies on viagra last night. Can you nip out and get me some cranberry juice?'

When I got home, there was no cranberry juice and the boyf was quite surprised to see me. Apparently he hadn't got my message. 'No problem' I thought, 'it'll probably get delivered later or something'.

About an hour later I got a phone call off a strange bloke, asking me how I was feeling. I'd got a digit wrong in my boyfriends number and the message had gone to this poor man. Apparently his girlfriend was not amused, but his mates thought he was some kind of wench magnet.

He thanked me for improving his reputation, and hoped I got better soon. I blushed purple, stammered a sorry down the phone, and tried to hide under a cushion.

Needless to say everyone else found this hilarious.
(Sat 28th May 2005, 16:00, More)

» Mugged

This wasn't me
but I don't fucking care, it made me wee.

I used to work up in Cheadle with a transexual by the name of Laura. Not the smallest, or feminine trannie I've ever met - she was ex army, with shoulders as wide as the doorway and hands the size of dinnerplates and certainly not the most convincing (think Bab's Cabs from League of Gentlemen), but she dressed, and lived as a woman. From behind, she looked quite girly in an old fashioned kind of way - shealways wore flowery skirts and she had a bleached blond perm.

She was out in Cheadle village one lunch time, and a passing chav on his bicycle thought 'Oooh an easy target innit, I'll tax 'er handbag'

He made a grab for it as he went past, only to be stopped by the muscles that 16 years squaddie training gives a man. He fell off his bike and landed on the pavement. Laura squealed in fright and looked down at the poor chav lying on the floor, who was by now utterly confused by the fact that his intended victim had five o'clock shadow and a voice deeper than Barry White.

I don't think I've ever seen a chav run as fast as that since.
(Thu 15th Jun 2006, 19:36, More)

» Grandparents

My Gran = Awesome. This post contains many words.
I wrote this eulogy for my Gran almost exactly a year ago.

"My earliest memory of my gran is of my dad warning us to watch her on the roads and make sure she crossed them properly. I used to think this was his sneaky way of making sure me and my brother remembered to use the Green Cross Code, but after many years of having to stop her striding out in to the middle of the roads amidst heavy traffic, listening to her constant refrain of ‘I’ll cause more damage to that car than it’ll cause to me’, I’m not so sure.

Gran was the most independent, headstrong, stubborn, exasperating and bloody-minded women I have ever known. She was also one of the kindest. She never backed down from an argument, or confrontation. She wasn’t impressed by wealth, social status or job-titles, and I have seen her give many a jumped-up jobsworthsuch a telling-off, that they would silently contemplate a change in career or early retirement rather than run the risk of having to deal with her again. There are people who work for Manchester City Council who visibly pale (and occasionally curl into the foetal position and weep) at the very mention of her name. Rightly so – she was a formidable woman.

If I was to stand here and talk about her many and varied encounters with people in authority, I’d be here all week. Probably all year. So I shall keep it brief.

When I was ten years old, and she took me and my brother to our first proper demonstration. It was the first time I’d really heard my Gran swear, and it was in connection with what she’d like to do with the Poll Tax and Maggie Thatcher. She marched all day, and her anger was truly genuine. I think that tells you all you need to know about my Gran and where she stood.

It wasn’t always politics that roused her bolshy streak though. Litter was another of her pet hates, especially when it was outside her block of flats, spoiling the view from her balcony. I remember my Uncle Jeff complaining one evening about the fact that his security officers had been pulled off their normal duties to clear the litter around the Barclay’s Bank building where they worked. ‘Some woman came in complaining’ apparently, saying she was going to write a letter to head office unless something was done about the rubbish dumped in the shrubs.

As my Uncle waxed lyrical about mithering old ladies, it slowly dawned on my dad who had made the complaint. Head in hands, he confessed that the woman was indeed my Gran. I don’t know who was more mortified – my Uncle for possibly causing terrible offence by complaining about Gran, or my dad for the fact that myGran had read the riot act in her own inimitable style! It worked though. The rubbish was cleared, the security officers got some fresh air, and my gran’s view was once more unspoiled.

My gran never gave up on a cause she believed in and she never ‘put up and shut up’ for an easy life. It wasn’t in her nature. She never cared what people thought of her, she just did what she felt was the right thing to do. She would fight battles for those unable to fight for themselves, and she never turned her back on a situation she knew to be unfair.

She was a single mother who worked hard all her life to provide for her children. She was passionate about politics and the rights of the working class, and never let anyone make her ashamed of who she is and where she is from.

I love her to bits.

She’s given me four very important bits of advice: -

1) Always earn enough to pay your own rent, even if your husband or partner is paying it for you - you never know when you will need to be independent.

2) Never let any man talk down to you. Ever. They’ll never earn the right to make you feel stupid.

3) Love as much as is humanly possible, with no guilt, no shame, and no regrets. She taught me that I should be with someone because I wanted to be there, not because someone forced me into it, and that to deny myself love because I was ashamed, or worried about what people would think was stupid.

4) People in power only hold that power because you allow them to. If they abuse that power, you can take it away from them. This applies to relationships, employers, landlords, councils and the Government.

She would walk for miles to find the perfect spot for a picnic. If she heard of a good park, she’d not rest until she took us – and even at 65 years old, she always beat us to the swings. She blatantly cheated when pulling crackers at Christmas, and if you did manage to win, she had absolutely no shame in pinching your prize. She was sneaky too, and had sharp elbows if it looked like you might put up a fight.

In short, my Gran was awesome.

She was my playmate, my conspirator, my confidante but most of all, she was my best friend. To put those words in the past tense is more painful than I can say.

I will miss her.
(Sun 5th Jun 2011, 23:10, More)

» Faking it

Bit of a re-post this, but have it anyway :)
Many many years ago I dated a body-builder for a while (yes Clinton Hadfield, I mean you). He was a cunt, and I have no idea why I put up with him for as long as I did.

Being a body-builder, he had an ego the size of a small country. He also had a nasty prediliction for Testos Boost, which is a hormone that has many unfortunate side effects (mood swings, aggression, over-confidence), all of which he suffered from. Including the 3" cock. His sexual technique could at best be described as 'determined', and at worst like being poked repeatedly with a really tiny knitting needle.

He laboured under the illusion that he was somehow a sexual stud of legendary proportions, despite his tiny nob, and because of this subjected me to hours of the dullest sex I have ever had the misfortune to receive.

At the begining of our relationship, I was inexperienced. Then I realised that he was just shit, and gently tried to get him try different positions/techniques etc, but he got offended. I faked orgasm occasionally, just to be polite and then realised that he neither noticed, nor cared whether I came or not. I decided to spend the time doing something useful, like watching TV. This became my undoing...

During a particulary lengthy, dry and occasionally painful session, I started watching Coronation Street. He (as usual) didn't notice, and he eventually finished the job. My mate then called round for a brew, and in the course of the evening, we discussed the important plotlines of Corrie. Turns out that she missed the second half of it and desperately wanted to know what had happened. So I told her. In front of the boyfriend. Who suddenly looked very very VERY pissed off.

Ooops ;)
(Thu 10th Jul 2008, 17:57, More)
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