'Cause our lives suck

K_x (dirty numb angel boy - F-f-fuck forever, if you don't mind) zegt:
dude
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - F-f-fuck forever, if you don't mind) zegt:
what a saaaad story!
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - F-f-fuck forever, if you don't mind) zegt:
pretty agressive kitties as well
Endless Audacity *pussywillow* zegt:
they're cats, it's what they do
Endless Audacity *pussywillow* zegt:
although possibly without the aspect of world domination

Has anyone else seen these pictures of Paris Hilton kissing her ferret? Probably and I'll not make any jokes about 'running out of men' or 'who has the biggest risk of catching a disease from this' , except I sort of did already now. What concerns me in these pictures, is her back. Is that hair? Because that's hairier than a woman's back should be. A lot.

And Ashlee Simpson has been laminated and preserved for all time as Slut Barbie. Good for her, it's pretty obvious that's about the highest career goal she could have attained anyway.

Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
I got this weird message on okcupid
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
hi, my name is bernard addy,am from ghana and an up coming musician.am 20 yrs of age and i want to take u as my penpal b'cos i read ur profile and i found out that u very kind and loving.i also like travelling to other country as well.please am a christian and a catholic member.am serious and respectiful boy to be.please reply me on my email :wonu_2@hotmail.com and my contact as well 0023324340342
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
may the lord richly bless you in jesus name amen.take care and stay away from trouble. if u have given birth and u want me also to take care of you, i can do it better.as an househelper.bye
Deemer / If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door. zegt:
what the hell.
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
I think someone's is trying to illegally get somewhere this was clearly sent to lots of people, I mean please, 'if you have given birth' ?
Deemer / If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door. zegt:
that's really really sad.
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
hmm, do I want me a hot black houseguest *ponders*
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
It'll prolly have more downsides than upsides
Deemer / If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door. zegt:
well he's christian and catholic
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
there's at least two right there
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
hehe, I could be a slave owner: strip bitch, or I'm calling the foreigner police
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
it rubs the lotion on its skin
Endless Audacity *Your mama's so fat when her beeper goes off, people think she's backing up* zegt:
Great, now I want me some chianti and I barely even know what that is

There's not really a point about that, except hey black Boy Toy of the Blog.

Endless Audacity *Despite al your words, you insist to hurt* zegt:
my anus is blocked up
Endless Audacity *Despite al your words, you insist to hurt* zegt:
I could not resist that
Endless Audacity *Despite al your words, you insist to hurt* zegt:
sorry
Deemer / If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door. zegt:
I know
Deemer / If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door. zegt:
I was saying it in my head, so don't worry
Deemer / If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door. zegt:
it hàd to be said.
Endless Audacity *Despite al your words, you insist to hurt* zegt:one of us was bound to

That's not about an actual anus, but about the longer story I'm writing and which I might post parts of later on, if it keeps going well (the uh blockage has been lifted and I'm tearing through it again. Don't that just sound nasty :p)

There's no me there anymore

De vuilnisbak onder de bomen

Er was niets erg bijzonders aan. Gewoon een standaard vuilnisbak. Hij had die vuilgroene kleur, stond op een paal, en hij had dat symbool op z’n buik, voor mensen die puur op het zicht niet zouden doorhebben dat dit wel degelijk een vuilnisbak was. Helemaal niets speciaal dus.

Het enige dat misschien bijzonder te noemen viel, was de plaats waarop hij stond. Niet ergens op een straathoek, en ook niet aan een bushalte of zo, toch heel typische plaatsen voor vuilnisbakken. Neen, deze specifieke groene bak stond tussen de bomen. Ik wil bijna zeggen dat hij in een bos stond, maar dat klopt niet helemaal. Een stel bomen maakt immers nog geen bos, net zoals een zwaluw de lente niet maakt. Ooit, lang geleden was het wel een bos, maar ooit lang geleden was zowat alles wel een bos of een zee, woestijnen niet meegerekend, maar we gaan niet mierenneuken.

Het ooit lang geleden waar we nu over spreken, is nu ook weer niet zo ver van ons verwijderd. In de jaren ’50, lang voor de vuilnisbak van de band rolde, werden de eerste percelen gerooid om huizen te zetten. Aanvankelijk waren het er maar een paar. Toen was het plots een heuse straat, en voor iemand het doorhad, stond er een hele wijk. Maar aan één kant van de wijk, waren weilanden, en de boerenfamilie die de scepter zwaaide over die weilanden, vertikte het om plaats te maken voor de vooruitgang, en aldus bleven de koeien - en soms ook wel schapen - rustig grazen, compleet niet beseffend dat zij daar wel lekker de vooruitgang in de weg stonden te staan. Je zou het de beesten bijna kwalijk nemen!

Het allereerste huis, dat dus gebouwd was toen er nog geen sprake was van een straat, en al helemaal niet van een wijk, stond toevallig wel een eindje af van dat weiland, maar nu ook weer niet zo veel van een eindje dat je er nog even één twee drie een extra huis kon neerpoten. En zo kwam het dus dat er daar enkel een aantal bomen, en een zandweggetje waren. Dat weggetje was best wel handig ook, je kon bijna rechtstreeks van het dorpsplein tot aan de wijk lopen, en ook tot aan de scholen die er vlak bij lagen, en dat allemaal zonder de openbare weg te betreden. Best goed hoor, zeiden de wijkbewoners, zo’n achterweggetje, alleen jammer van die koeien (en soms schapen) want bij gebrek aan een trein in de buurt, staan die beesten je zo vervelend aan te staren.

Het mag dus wel gezegd worden dat het zandweggetje frequent en veelvuldig gebruikt werd. Velen gebruikten het enkel maar om van één punt naar een ander te gaan, maar anderen bleven ook wel eens staan op de open plek halverwege. Nog anderen kwamen zelfs echt samen op die open plek, waar ze volledig afgezonderd waren, en het was er ook nog eens mooi en zo, dus dat heeft wel aantrek. Jammer genoeg kwam er nogal wat rommel van, en op een goede dag besliste de groendienst van de gemeente, die toch al maar weinig te doen had, dat het toch wel zonde was dat dit groene stukje zo bevuild werd. En na het invullen van enige formulieren en het motiveren van de uitgave, werd de vuilnisbak onder de bomen geplant. De burgemeester ging er zelfs mee op de foto voor zijn partijkrantje, want, zo redeneerde hij, je moet de bevolking duidelijk maken dat niet alleen die groene jongens begaan zijn met de natuur.

En zo kwam de vuilnisbak daar te staan, op een afgezonderde open plek onder de bomen, helemaal alleen. Hij kreeg natuurlijk maar al te vaak gezelschap, en misschien zag hij zelfs wel meer dan de gemiddelde bak aan de bushalte. Hij had zijn vaste bezoekers, zoals die aardige oude man uit nummer 25 die elke week kwam sluikstorten in de vuilnisbak, want niemand zag het daar, en dan moest die tenminste geen geld uitgeven aan vuilniszakken, die waren zo verrekte duur. Er was ook een mevrouw die elke dag minstens twee keer voorbij fietste, maar zij was nog nooit bij hem gestopt om iets weg te gooien. Ergens anders ook niet voor trouwens, want wat ga je uiteindelijk anders nog doen bij een vuilnisbak? Er was ook een jongen die in de kinderopvang aan het eind van het pad werkte, al wist de vuilnisbak dat uiteraard niet, want wat weten vuilnisbakken nu over kinderopvang? Hij kwam elke dag, of beter gezegd, elke werkdag, ook twee keer langs, en stopte dan altijd om een sigaretje te roken, uit het zicht van de kinderen, en dan stond die een beetje terug te staren naar de koeien, en in de bomen, en dan deed die zijn peuk uit en smeet die in de vuilnisbak. Zo waren er wel eindeloos veel mensen die hem een bezoekje brachten.

Vaak gebeurden de interessantste dingen ’s avonds. In de nachtelijke uurtjes liepen er meer mensen over de open plek dan je zou denken. Zo was de vuilnisbak de enige die wist dat Mevrouw Janssens, van nummer 4, een affaire had met de zoon van haar buurvrouw, en hij was ook de enige die getuige was geweest van het kleine homoseksuele experimentje tussen de neven De Boers. En er was het onaangename voorval met een dronken tiener die hem gebruikt had om in te braken na een slechte ervaring met wat marihuana en als de vuilnisbak gevoelens had gehad, zou hij dat zeker kwalijk genomen hebben.

Ja, de vuilnisbak zag een hele hoop, en menig agent zou zijn arm hebben gegeven om een keertje met hem te kunnen praten. Tenminste, als het idee van met een vuilnisbak te gaan praten ooit in hen op zou zijn gekomen, want laten we eerlijk zijn, het zou een beetje mal zijn. Maar toch, als de politiebrigade wist wat de vuilnisbak had gezien op een warme avond in juli, dan zouden ze toch wel een praatje met hem willen slaan, mal of niet.

Alhoewel niemand ervan op de hoogte was, had de vuilnisbak als enige gezien wat er gebeurd was met Sylvie Verhaevert. Deze frisse blonde meid, slechts 14, was ondertussen toch al een dik jaar spoorloos, en iedereen had de hoop opgegeven haar ooit nog terug te vinden. Moest de vuilnisbak wat spraakzamer zijn, dan had hij hen dat al een dik jaar geleden kunnen vertellen. Sylvie was dood en begraven. Op de avond van haar verdwijning was ze te laat. Ze had om 18 uur thuis moeten zijn voor het eten, maar pas om 19.30 verliet ze de woning van haar vriendin, Lianne Gaverzucht, en ging ze naar huis. Die noemenswaardige vertraging was echter niet te wijten aan Lianne, maar wel aan haar één jaar oudere broer, Jairemy, aan wie Sylvie die avond zeer gewillig haar maagdelijkheid had opgegeven. Niet dat Lianne of Jairemy dit ooit aan de politie hadden gemeld, ze zouden wel gek wezen, en zoveel deed het er uiteindelijk ook niet toe, maar het leek de moeite waard om te vermelden dat ze niet zomaar een beetje te laat was omdat ze met barbiepoppen aan het klooien was geweest.

Ongeveer om 20.00 passeerde Sylvie over de open plek, niet meteen gehaast, eerder traag zelfs, en met een dromerige blik in de ogen. De vuilnisbak besteedde er weinig aandacht aan, totdat er plots iemand nogal snel aan kwam hollen. Sylvie leek zich er niet aan te storen, misschien dacht ze dat het een jogger was, maar de vuilnisbak bespeurde enige dringendheid in de manier waarop deze persoon liep. Vuilnisbakken staan zelf uiteraard altijd stil, maar ze zijn opmerkelijk getalenteerd als het op manieren van lopen analyseren aankomt. Sylvie had het pas door toen de man – want het was een man – zich op haar stortte en haar hoofd herhaaldelijk tegen de grond stompte, totdat er een dof gekraak te horen was, en haar frisse blonde haar plots bloedrood kleurde. Dat vond de vuilnisbak toch enigszins bijzonder. De onbekende man, die wel iets weg had van vader Gaverzucht, maar helemaal zeker was hij daar niet van, snoof eens diep tussen de benen van het voor pampus liggende kind, en ging aan de slag. Het blieft ons niet meteen om in detail te treden, maar laten we zeggen dat het waarschijnlijk niet zo slecht was dat Sylvie nooit meer het bewustzijn hervond. We zouden willen zeggen dat de vuilnisbak medelijden had met de arme meid, maar hij is nu eenmaal slechts een vuilnisbak en medeogen is niet hun sterkste kant, en zodus was verwondering het verste dat hij raakte. Toen het onsmakelijke gebeuren eenmaal was afgerond, werd snel en eenvoudig een einde gemaakt aan het toch al wegsijpelende leven van Sylvie, en iets minder vlug en makkelijk werd ze begraven in de losse grond tussen de bomen, vlak achter de vuilnisbak.
En hoewel niemand ooit iets aan de vuilnisbak zou vragen, en zelfs als ze het deden, dan zou die niet weten hoe hij er op moest antwoorden, toch was het misschien een geruststelling voor het arme kind dat iets wist wat er haar overkomen was. Zelfs al was het iets dat niet meteen medelijden kon voelen met haar lot.

Hey heeeeeey Goodlooking

The dynamics had changed once again. It was not the first time this had happened, but it was the first time that she feared the consequences. She was too old to do battle all over again. Damnit! She thought, Who could have foreseen this?!?

In an attempt to calm down she put her head in between her legs and started licking at the tuff of hair underneath her belly. It didn’t calm her the way it used to. She was dry down there now. Another sign that she was too damn old for this shit.

Ever since she had moved here, she had been in control. It had been easy, the ones who were here before her were weak, spoiled, and they did not know how to put up a fight. Besides, she thought with contempt, they were men, and men are always weaker. And that little bitch was old even then, unable to hold up her excrements, and with rotten teeth. It had been kitten’s play to overthrow her. Dogs were stupid, in general, and this one was even stupid for a dog.

The first shift of dynamics had occurred when the older one had died. He had been sick for a very long time, but the old woman who cared for them had kept him alive much longer than he himself had wished. He wished to join his friend, who had already been dead when she had arrived, and end his suffering. Humans, she thought with even more vile contempt, were obsessed with prolonging the inevitable. It didn’t even occur to her that maybe she was doing the same thing by refusing to give up her domincance.

She had been left with the neutered man, one who never bothered her, was even pleasant to deal with, and she had been the undisputed queen of the domain. Sure, he was fatter and more cuddly and people petted him more, but she could not care less. She was fed first, she occupied the best place in the bed, she held court from atop the nicest chair. She ruled her little kingdom, and every cat in the neighbourhood knew it too. They feared her. Ah, I was something then, she thought, a fierce warrior, no one messed with me!

Then a new one had come. Female. Small. Underfed. Not much of an opponent it had seemed. She had been kind to this pitiable newcomer. But soon she grew large on the ample amounts of food that were bestowed upon her. And she was not content to be just a subject, she wanted to reign. Ferocious battles were fought, but she had been stronger. She had kept the man and the dog at bay, tricked the human into thinking that the newcomer was the aggressor. She had fought bravely and she had fought well, and in the end she had been victorious. Her enemy succumbed and bowed down before her.

It had not brought her peace. She had to be constantly on alert for new attempts of the treacherous grey to overthrow her. But she had been smarter. She had lost her mating partner to this younger opponent, but in the end he had not gone along with the plot to battle her together. He loved her, he had said, ha! She scorned his love. She had long ago lost the ability to carry kittens within her. Only one live one had been born out of her uterus, and even that one had only lived a day. She sometimes wondered what her life would have been, if she had been given the chance to be a mother. But it was of no matter anymore now. She was a queen, not a mother. And her throne was under siege once more.

The dynamics had shifted once more when the red man died. He had not gotten out of the way of one of those infernal human machines fast enough. She had not mourned over him, but she had felt sorry for him. She hoped he had not suffered needlessly. Her human and those of the family, had grieved for him. He had been their favourite and she knew it, although she did not resent them for it.

For the longest time after that, they had been 3: she, the grey and the dog, whose life dragged on and on in an endless spray of red shit and burning piss. No cat would want to live like that, a cat would want to end in dignity. The dog seemed to cherish every befouled day she got. Dogs are stupid, she thought for Sheba knows what time. The grey had attempted to ingratiate herself more to the humans of the household. The old woman continued to prefer her, which she was secretly pleased with even though she would never admit it. The younger human female paid little attention to either of them. The young male who had once been her human, in the place where she had come from, disliked the violent gray, and would pet only her, which was good. The other young male treated all creatures with alike violence and anger. The grey attempted to play nice, but she could not keep it up. She would jump on laps and pur, but after a while her nerves would give out and she’d hiss, scratch and bite. The young male took to calling her ther Serpent Grey.

The grey simply didn’t like being petted. But she could enjoy a rough human hand messing up her fur. And she knew it ingratiated her. She knew it would keep her number one.

But now, in the twilight of her life, when she could feel her strength waning, when she was exhausted after every battle, when she stayed in more and more, and slept most of the time, now that the meat on her bones, once supple, had become more rigid, in short, now that she was nearing her life’s end, an unpleasant surprise was sprung upon her.

Oh cruel fate! She hissed and in her fury tore a thread out of the carpet, what vile trick you have played on me! A new inhabitant had arrived. Small and underfed, like the grey had been, but she knew that did not make her harmless. She had been shocked to discover the newcomer, but she had not taken action yet. She kept aloof, and stayed watchful. The grey had not made any contact yet either. But she must be smelling her chance! She thought. Even in my old age, I can keep the grey under, she is not so young anymore herself by now. But a new one… If they join forces, I am doomed.

So she watched and she watched. She soon became convinced that the black one by herself was no big threat. She was quiet, withdrawn and apparantly uninterested in power. She was soon popular with the humans as she enjoyed being petted and would spend hours in their laps, purring away. The grey one approached her once, but het volatile personality caused her to grow annoyed with the timid thing, and she hissed at her. The black one now stayed away in fear. She saw her chance to approach her and forge an alliance.

With forced kindness, she endeared herself to the little knocked up black, and thus made sure she would not ally herself with her enemies. But a strange thing occurred: the more she acted the part of loving older one, the more she felt herself become one. The many years of maternal love she had hidden inside herself, and the grief over her lost children, came pouring out, and she lavished it all onto this young ditzy cat.

Weeks passed and the black one gave birth to 3 healthy kittens. She became like a beningn grandmother, caring for both the black one and her litter. She should have seen that the grey one became more and more deranged, more scared … But she didn’t see it, familial bliss had made her careless. She would later come to understand that the price for being a great ruler, was loneliness, but by then it was too late.

Who knows what possessed the grey to do what she did. Perhaps, in her weakening mental state, she believed she, the black and the kittens would form an army against her. Perhaps she was simply jealous of them. Or perhaps she was just a mean old thing. She always assumed it was all of the above. Like all her foul plots, it was well thought out. The kittens were only a week old, and the caretaker man, who came when they were sick or injured, came to check on the black. She had sat herself on her high chair and supervised his investigations, growling in a warning tone whenever he seemed to be a tad rough.

Only then had she noticed the absence of the grey… A terrible feeling of foreboding befell her, and she rushed away off her chair and into the front room, where the litter was. The grey was towering over them, her ears flat against her head, all her fur was standing upright, and her eyes blazed with bloody violence. The spotted kitten was beyond saving, its head torn off. But the other two were still alive, she had not been able to turn against the terriffied little ones yet. She felt deep grief and terrible rage awaken in her chest. She knew her fur was just as frightening as the grey’s. She lurched at her. The old human made an ‘owowowowowow’ sound, which she always made when upset, but she barely heard it anymore. This was the battle to end all battles…

She lay there, in the dark, surrounded by the black and the two remaining kittens. Her old human and the nicer young male stood above her, looking at her with pity and worry. It no longer mattered. The grey would live, but she would never again be able to hurt those she loved. And she wouldn’t win any kitty shows any time soon either! She thought with malevolent glee and then had a coughing fit, which made more blood trickle into her throat. It would not be long now. It was alright. She was surrounded by love, for the first time in her life, and she was able to give love back, for the first time in her life. And, most importantly, she died as she had lived: as a Queen.

Sparks flying in the dark

Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
I prefer penis
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
although vulva is a word that really rolls off your tongue
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
I just don't want to roll my tongue over a vulva
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
which is a subtle distinction

I have received many compliments over my little bout of late night madness that I posted earlier so thanks a lot. Next time a thrilling story of sex, violence and manipulation, conducted by teenage singers. I will call it Spearsville and dedicate it to Jessica Simpson's stylist, who must surely have shot him or herself by now. If not, he/she should be shot.

You see, the main problem with part of your blog being dedicated to posting pictures of Jessica looking a) stupid b) ugly c) stupid d) silly e) badly dressed or f) all of the above, is that it's not much of a challenge. It's basically a process of Jessica leaving the house and having her picture taken et voilà all over the internet.

Therefore it is nice to see that she has outdone herself at some event (I'm not much of a researcher) by first putting on a pair of heinous shoes? Clogs? Espadrilles? Slippers?

Let's call it footwear. Maybe it might even have been cute, if it didn't have the colour of an incontinent grandfather's favourite white underpants, you know, the pair he wears on mondays because he wants to feel nice the first day of the week, but he also wears them on sundays, to go to church, so by monday night they're a tad rank and have that exact colour.

The dress is not as clownish this time, but it's awfully full isn't it? Personally I prefer my clothes to be sort of uh you know, one colour, possibly two, maybe with a little decoration, if it's not too much. However, I wouldn't be caught dead in something that looks as if Van Gogh puked on it.

The hair is still a creation of Cheap Ass Extenstions Incorporated so let's just skip that.

The thing that sends this outfit over the wall is, obviously, the huge pair of sunglasses on her remodified schnauzer.

Jess, sweetie? You're inside. You know, in a building. And you're there with the purpose of being photographed. So why the sunglasses? If you were going to cover something up, how about your - still oddly shaped and so tanned I can actually see some kind of rash - breasts? Can we work on that, can we?

Ow right, before Frank starts bitching again (by saying so I have of course made sure he'll find something to bitch about :)) here's a Boy Toy of the Blog. He's not that cute - again, what's up with that? - but he oddly reminds me of Frank. Somehow. Something about him. And it's a little creepy... Because he might be a little cute if he didn't remind me so much of a naked Frank...

*Goes of to his safe place and leaves you with other MSN stuff he needs to put somewhere because his blog document thingy is backing up*

Deemer / My robot will never die zegt:
she really doés have supernipples
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
yup
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
and they're attention whores

Deemer / My robot will never die zegt:
god I hope I'm better at sex
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
I'd be happy to evaluate you, purely in the name of uh science?
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
yes, science
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
obey science!
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
they gave us penicilline and internet pornography
Deemer / My robot will never die zegt:
is there anything they can't do?
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
make the internet porn free

Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
wait
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
hold old am i
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
seriously
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
23?
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
right?
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
shit
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
wait, I was born in 1982
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
so 20 in 2002
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
+4
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
24?
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
that doesn't sound right
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
oh right, I was born in october
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
I'm 23
Endless Audacity *Kattenasiel Paula* zegt:
I've always been a little forgetful
Deemer / If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door. zegt:
.....
Deemer / If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door. zegt:
oh man my future looks grim

That damn old river

That noon, at the psychiatrist’s office

“Everyone has their little oddities, don’t they?”
“Of course.”
“My oddity may be a little more to the odd side, but it’s not that harmful.”
“Would you care to talk to me about it?”
“Hmm, I suppose that might be good.”
“I am here if you want me to listen.”
“You see, I don’t even consider it that much of a problem, but my boyfriend does.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Happy together?”
“Very. Only my oddity causes problems sometimes.”
“Is your oddity of a sexual nature?”
“Yes, it is, how did you know?”
“Most oddities, or fetishes, that cause problems within relationships are of a sexual nature.”
“Of course, I knew that, stupid me.”
“Would it happen to be shoes?”
“Shoes?”
“Yes, some men are aroused by shoes.”
“No, not shoes. I know a man who has that though.”
“Everyone does, it’s very common.”
“I understand.”
“So, of a sexual, non-shoe nature then.”
“Indeed.”
“Please, go on.”
“I find it difficult to explain…”
“Take your time.”
“You see, I become aroused when I hear the word peninsula.”
“Come again?”
“Oh, I knew you would not understand! No one does!”
“Calm down my good man. I must admit it is … eccentric… but I would like to hear more.”
“Alright.”
“When did you first become aware of this… attraction to the word pe…”
“DON’T SAY IT!!”
“…”
“Please, don’t say the word.”
“Yes, of course, I understand.”
“Thank you.”
“Maybe we should make a codeword to mean the … arousing word.”
“That may be a good idea.”
“Thank you.”
“But what codeword.”
“How about… cotton candy? Or does that also excite you.”
“No, cotton candy will be fine.”
“So, when did you become aware of this attraction to the word cotton candy.”
“When I was 12.”
“That is very young for someone to even know the word cotton candy.”
“Is it?”
“It’s not the most common word, now is it?”
“I wouldn’t know, in my experience it comes up in conversation more than one would imagine.”
“Does it really?”
“It really does.”
“Alright then.”
“When I was 12, I was dealing with my conflicted sexuality. A very classical story of denial and despair over my attraction to men, rather than to women.”
“Aha.”
“Why did you say aha?”
“It was simply a statement of having understood what you said.”
“It did not sound like simply a statement of having understood what I said.”
“Didn’t it?”
“No, it did not.”
“What did it sound like then?”
“It sounded as if you are ready to lay the entire fault for my oddity with my acceptance process of my homosexuality when I was 12.”
“I was intending no such thing. I was simply recognising the possibility that it had an impact on your situation.”
“Alright then.”
“It would be silly to assume a natural process of self-acceptance would cause your symptoms, after all, there are plenty of homosexual men and woman out there who do not fly into a randy rage whenever they hear someone say cotton candy.”
“Exactly.”
“Go on, you were 12 and dealing with your sexuality.”
“Yes, right. Well, I was desperately attempting to assert my heterosexuality when one of our teachers became ill and he was temporarily replaced.”
“Was he seriously ill?”
“Oh no, a small bladder operation if I recall correctly, he was up on his feet and teaching again within two months.”
“Very good.”
“Indeed.”
“A substitute teacher you said.”
“He was a God. A glorious piece of manhood, from top to toe he was a slice of perfection: wavy brown hair, a noble brow, blue eyes with mischievous lights playing in his irises, a smile that could disarm the entire Russian army, strong broad shoulders, bulging biceps, barely contained by his respectable teacher shirt, pecs straining against the fabric, a flat stomach, hindquarters that were so firm and round that they were like a melon, sliced in half and stuck into his pants, a groin that seemed to WANT to be out of his corduroy slacks, oh, how many nights I have spent picturing what delicious Hors d’Oeuvres were hidden underneath that sturdy fabric, the amounts of pubescent semen I have spilled over the image of his buttocks pushing against his trousers when he picked up his satchel…”
“…”
“I am ever so sorry doctor, I got carried away.”
“Oh no, that is quite alright.”
“Doctor?”
“Yes?”
“Do you… do you have an erection.”
“No… not at all.”
“From over here, it looks as if…”
“I just have an unfortunate crease in my pants.”
“…”
“Please, continue.”
“…”
“Do go on.”
“…”
“Please?”
“Alright then…”
“Thank you.”
“You can guess which teacher he replaced of course.”
“Can I?”
“I should think you can, an educated man like yourself.”
“Yes… Uh… I seem to have a bit of a black-out right now.”
“You seem to be moving around in your seat very uncomfortably.”
“Hemmoroids.”
“…”
“Yes, unpleasant business, I know. Which teacher did he replace?”
“My geopgraphy teacher!”
“Ah, I see, I should have guessed that indeed.”
“The subject matter for those two months was of course…”
“Cotton candy?”
“No, Corsica.”
“Corsica?”
“Yes, Corsica.”
“What does Corsica have to do with anything?”
“Well, since then I associate cotton candy with sex.”
“But Corsica isn’t a cotton candy…”
“… What?”
“It’s an island.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes…”
“…”
“Perhaps you were not paying much attention to the lessons and a little too much to your geography adonis’ endowments?”
“It would seem so.”
“You must feel very overwhelmed now.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I understand.”
“No, you do not. All my sexually active life, I have been afflicted by this animal passion whenever I heard someone say pen… cotton candy. I become a wild raging beast of lust whenever the word is uttered, I must have no holds barred sex! I must lick, squeeze, suck, slobber, fornicate, nothing can stop me! I go on for hours and do not stop until I am completely emptied and bewildered, until my partner passes out underneath me in pure fatigue. And all over a misconception? I become a passionate, uncontrollable sex-god because I didn’t pay attention in class?”
“…”
“Doctor?”
“…”
“You seem to be slobbering a bit, are you alright?”
“Yes…”
“Oh doctor, I simply do not know what to do!”
“I know exactly what to do…”
“You do?”
“Oh yes.”
“Tell me!”
“PENINSULA!”

I've got some big news

That morning, on a quiet street corner.

"I'm not trying to disgust you or anything, I'm just saying."
"No, I understand."
"After all, people need to be able to talk about their problems don't they?"
"Of course."
"So, here goes... My boyfriend and I are having sexual problems."
"Are you now?"
"Yes."
"..."
"I never thought this would happen, you know."
"Well, any relationship cools down after a while. You must try to keep the spark going."
"Cools down?! I wish!"
"I do not follow."
"He's an insatiable maniac!"
"..."
"I'm practically dehydrated! The man won't leave me alone! I must be the only man with whose anal stretchmars have stretchmarks of themselves!"
"..."
"And as if he is not horny enough in daily life, he also has an odd fetish."
"Shoes?"
"What?"
"Shoe fetish?"
"No, why would you think that?"
"... Some men get turned on by a nice shoe. One with a big heel. Black and shiny. Smelling freshly polished... Sleek..."
"..."
"So ... not shoes then."
"No."
"I was just guessing."
"Alright."
"Do go on."
"Peninsulas."
"... What?"
"He gets horny from the word peninsula."
"..."
"I swear!"
"You are trying to fool me aren't you?"
"No, really."
"... Explain... please... explain."
"I don't have an explanation, whenever he hears the word peninsula he turns into a rabid beast, he literally tears the clothes off my body and has his way with me, his hands groping all over, hos tongue exploring every inch of my body and a lot of inches inside it too! His fingers pry me open and slide..."
"I really do not feel the need to know all the details."
"What? Oh yes, sorry, I got carried away there for a moment."
"So, you don't like it when he's so beastlike with you?"
"I wouldn't say that, it's just so exhausting sometimes. And inappropriate at times."
"Inappropriate?"
"Well, believe it or not, the word peninsula is said a lot more than one would expect."
"Is it really?"
"Yes, really."
"..."
"For example, a few months ago we had dinner with my parents. Nice people, they had a tough time accepting my sexual orientation, but they came around."
"That's very nice of them."
"Isn't it?"
"It really is."
"And they like my boyfriend too, or I should say, they USED TO like him."
"Should you now?"
"Yes, I should."
"..."
"See, at this dinner they also invited my uncle Herm, who is a minister, also a nice enough man, but a tad old fashioned, you know the type."
"I have an uncle Herm too."
"Do you? What a coincidence!"
"He isn't a minister though."
"Isn't he?"
"No."
What is he then?"
"He works for the phone company."
"Well, that's a nice honest job as well."
"It is."
"Now where was I?"
"Dinner with your parents and uncle Herm."
"Ow yes, thank you."
"Not a problem."
"So we are at dinner and my parents are telling me about their vacation they took, they had just come back you see."
"Did they? Where did they go to?"
"Pilio."
"I do not believe I know it."
"It's in Greece."
"Lovely country."
"Couldn't say, I've never been."
"Me either, but I imagine it to be rather lovely."
"Oh yes, the pictures are very lovely."
"So, go on."
"Well, dinner is very nice, we talk about what they did and when we get to dessert, uncle Herm says 'Say, Pilio is an island , is it not?' and my mother says 'No Herm, it's a peninsula.' I swear, I was terrified, because I could see my boyfriends eyes widen and his crotch bulge."
"Oh dear."
"Oh dear indeed! Before I knew it he had me in the downstairs bathroom, pants around my ankles and he kept screaming 'I am going to go Gibraltar on your ass.'"
"Gibraltar?"
"Another peninsula."
"I see."
"I was mortified and kept trying to make him stop, but he really is a beast in these conditions."
"Did your parents know what was going on?"
"Well, in his passion he neglected to close the door, so they had quite a show."
"Oh dear."
"Indeed. My mother is still mentally incapble of throwing a formal dinner party. She tried to have just a simple Fish and Chips get together with her sister, but she broke down sobbing half way through."
"Poor woman."
"Isn't she? My father took it rather well, he mumbled something about his time in the army, but I am not entirely sure what he meant by that, maybe it was the shock."
"..."
"And Uncle Herm positively refuses to speak to me anymore!"
"That is terrible."
"Isn't it?"
"It really is."
"So, afterwards I had a serious talk with him, avoiding any mention of peninsulas and even islands, just to be on the safe side, though I did say something about penis and insult rather fast after each other and that nearly got him going again."
"..."
"Anywho he promised to never act like that in public again."
"That's something."
"Yes, I thought it rather sweet. He really is a sweet man."
"I can see that."
"Thank you."
"That's alright."
"And he did, for quite a while, until yesterday."
"Yesterday."
"Yesterday, my friend Anne came over. Lovely girl, but unlucky in love and all. All her men cheated on her and used her for sex."
"Such a shame what some men stoop to."
"Isn't it?"
"It really is."
"She said she had become convinced that the only man she could be around without having to worry about sex, was me, being a gay one."
"Shame she's so bitter, how old is she."
"She only 22."
"Real shame to be so bitter at such a young age."
"Isn't it?"
"It really rather is."
"So, we talk and my boyfriend is around, but he gives us our friend space, you know."
"Very nice of him."
"Indeed, very nice."
"Suddenly, Anne looks on her watch and says she hadn't realised how late it was and that there was a program on the telly she wanted to see and it was about to start, so of course I say she can watch it on our telly."
"Very kind of you."
"It's only natural."
"Indeed."
"So she turns it on and I ask 'What is it about Anne?' and she says 'The most beautiful peninsulas of the world.'"
"Oh dear..."
"Oh dear indeed! I was anxious, but he seemed to be in control and he bravely attempted to hide his erection, which is no small matter."
"Hiding it?"
"His erection is no small matter, so hiding it isn't either."
"..."
"Problem was, Anne kept talking and saying things like 'is that not the most beautiful peninsula you ever saw' and 'peninsula is such a funny word' and she kept on going like that."
"Oh dear."
"Indeed!! Half way through the show he shouts ' I cannot stand it any longer, I must have you now!"
"Oh my."
"And then he did! On Anne"s lap! She shrieked all the way through."
"Oh my..."
"She joined a woman's group this morning. Shaved her head bald as an egg and threw out her LadyShave."
"..."
"So you can see why I am a tad razzled today."
"I can."
"Anywho, how did we get into all this again?"
"I said: here you go sir, would you like sugar on your waffle?"
"Oh no thank you, just plain please."

I am a Saint for semen

Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
..why do you want a shetland pony?
Endless Audacity *Little boys who aren't polite give the pro-choice movement a reason to exist* zegt:
I've always wanted one
Endless Audacity *Little boys who aren't polite give the pro-choice movement a reason to exist* zegt:
It's not even a joke
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
Really? =]
Endless Audacity *Little boys who aren't polite give the pro-choice movement a reason to exist* zegt:
really
Endless Audacity *Little boys who aren't polite give the pro-choice movement a reason to exist* zegt:
why does no one ever believe that



I should update, or else I'll lose my whole rhytmn and updates will be lacking for months again. Unfortunately I have nothing to say, so I'm sort of thinking it up as I go along, which might not be the best idea since I am rather ill.

Or very ill. Which is typical because my two weeks vacation started today. My body fought all the kiddie germs and waited for the vacation to break down in a snotty, blubbering, coughing, feverish mess. Thanks a lot body, like it wasn't enough you decided to expand on me *kicks self*.

So I read "The World According to Garp", which you should all go get, now! But no one ever listens to me so screw you all and don't read it and I'll sit here like a crazy people and scream "You don't know what you are missing" and then hawk up half my longs. That'll show you, muahahahahaha.

Okay, I may possibly have overdosed on my Dafalgan a teensy bit.

So people at work think I'm weird, apparantly. I'm not sure why, since they haven't even been introduced to the things I think are weird about me. But they think I'm weird already, so in a couple of months they will probably think I'm certifiable. Which is by the way a really hard word to spell for me, I always get it wrong, so it might be wrong again now. Same with conundrum, it sounds great, but really, how the heck do you write it?

I don't think I'm that weird. When I look at the people around me, they are all more or less as strange as me. Although the only really weird one I can think of right now is Frank. And he might be hors categorie.

But I , and the people around me, do seem to tend to get (wow, verbapalooza) into odd situations. When I was 18, I became convinced that we were a television show, a bad one, with completely unbelievable storylines. I didn't just joke about it, I thoroughly believed it. I even wrote a sort of thesis about it to convince my friends. I managed to convince only one of them, but I suppose that's something. For the record, I don't think we're a television show anymore. Except sometimes, maybe, a little.

Accoring to Karo, it's strange that I get annoyed when there are numbers in my call register thing, and I always delete them as soon as I've received or made a call. Same for my internet history, I only go to sites via links or favourites, I cannot stand it when there are things in the bar itself. I just consider it a healthy cyber cleaning urge.

And Tim thinks it's weird that I always have to eat my vegetables and potatoes, before I eat my meat (with the obvious exceptions being sausage and chicken cubes). This does not apply to fries or rice, then the order doesn't matter. It's not even really compulsive, I CAN eat the meat first if someone points it out, I just don't do it out of my own will. I think it must be a 'eat your vegetables' thing from when I was a kid or something.

So, I'm not weird. I'm eccentric. And no more than Karo, Tim, or anyone else is. Well, maybe a little more than Kevin. Who thinks it's weird (or maybe that was Kenneth, who really shouldn't talk about weird) that I have a mild distastes for orgasms in porn. I have no objections to it in real life, I just do not feel the need to see it televised.

Also, poodles bother me. They're not really little dogs, but not really big either and what's with the hair? They upset me, creepy doglike-but-not-quite things they are.

Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
that'll be some surprised poodle
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
what is it with me and insulting poodles?
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
Maybe they remind me of Jessica Simpson
Endless Audacity *Ziek* zegt:
or vice versa

But I like those sausage dogs, they just look so comical.

Speaking of looking comical, it's time for the Boy Toy of the Blog and a bunch of celebrities.

Boy Toy being this one, who's not exactly so hot. Although he does have something. Possible herpes. But he looks funny, tee hee.

An old picture, but it fits the weird hair thing: Christina Aguilera. Boy, I'd hate to be around her in an angora sweater.

Here is Courtney Cox - Arquette's boob popping out. Not so interesting, but I love the look on the kid's face. He's all "Yo fellas, you getting this? Come on, take a couple of pictures of these mammaries!"

Straight men getting drunk and snogging, a common occurence and I don't know a straight man who hasn't done it. Although, according to some theories by my gay friends, this just means I don't know any straight men. When celebrities do it, you sort of hope for Jake Gyllenhaal and Ryan Phillipe, but what do you get? Yeah, Tommy 'I am a wife beater and proud of it' Lee and Dave 'I married the other, slightly less popular Baywatch chick' Navarro. We are not turned on.

Speaking of the beaten wife, she really has been out and about a lot lately. And I now understand why she doesn't bother covering up her boobs: she has supernipples that refuse to be put out of sight. Even a bra and a sweater will not conceal them. So it makes sense that she pops out of her top every chance she gets. I wonder if her kids are as cool as the Arquette one with all those pictures.

Jessica Simpson had a birthday, which means she is one year closer to being old and ugly and out of the media and possibly hawking pillow cases or leg wax on the Home Shopping Channel, so congrats to you girl! Although I am puzzled at her posing for a non-existant photographer at the party... Luckily a papparazzo was there to capture Jessica standing around and striking poses.

For those who hate Kevin Federline, here's a game. It's dull and lame, but whatever.

And this is mildly amusing and greatly disturbing. If you're too damn poor to afford the real one, you can now hire this Paris Hilton look-alike to come to your parties. Really. To stand around, say something stupid, get drunk, pee in a corner and give herpes to your first born child and/or dog? The amusing bit is how she doesn't even look like Paris at all. She's just fake blond and fake tanned, and that's where the resemblance ends.

And in closing. Eva Longoria is the 'saucy Latina' from Desperate Housewives, who is considered very hot, although I always thought she was pretty, but nothing special. Eva was photographed without her make-up and yikes! Even I have less hair growing in my lip. So next time the ladies despair at not looking like the people on television, keep this in mind.

It's all over your face, baby, tell me how does it taste

Apparantly I have a rather passionate fan (imagine that!) who has taken the time to study the symbolism in my titles. According to him, they always have some highly obscure relation to the topic post and my mental condition at the time of posting. While such attention is flattering and somewhat scary, I must dissapoint. I used to bother making up titles, but since my posts usually are about everything and nothing, it was sort of hard to find one that suited it. When I first arrived at Blogger, I posted without titles, but I didn't like the lay-out, it just didn't look 'nice' to me. So now I pick my titles in a very simple way: whatever sentence of whatever song rolls by at the time I'm starting the post.

Today that would be part of Cazwell's delightfully vulgar 'All Over Your Face' and there really is no need to look for symbolism behind that one...

In other news: I have resumed writing, finally, after being spurred on by both Rens and Kevin for a while. We'll see how far I get this time.

Uh, and that's about it really. Uh. To make it somewhat interesting, here's picture of Paris Hilton. I'm not completely sure what happened here, but this is my scenario: while visiting the zoo, Paris ran into Pamela Anderson's breasts and, jealous about being under-endowed in that department, she viciously attacked the former baywatch star, eventually succeeding in scalping the mother of two and parading it around as a wiglike trophy. Adrenaline flowing, Paris went on a rampage and brutally butchered the zoo's prized flamingos, causing their feathers to become stuck to her E-Z-Tan spray, which she applies religiously and tends to be somewhat sticky. Only then noticing she was running late for showing up on a red carpet for some kind of event, she rushed to it, stumbling through the gift shop, and becoming entangled in cheap kiddie jewelry in the shape of butterflies. Feeling that the boob tube she had on might be a bit too subtle, she then ditched it and covered her breasts up with her belt.

Or maybe Paris Hilton is just a slut with no taste.

Either way...

I can't wait to freak, see you at the same time next week

K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
the internet is zo lek als een zeef
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
people are reading this conversation as we type it!
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
well
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
at least they could if they would be interested
Endless Audacity *It's so sad you just have to laugh* zegt:
wow, they must be bored
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
I am a danger to world peace
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
let's try something
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
"axis of evil" "fuck america" "go allah"
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
voila
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
that should get their attention
Endless Audacity *It's so sad you just have to laugh* zegt:
"anal sex with children"
Endless Audacity *It's so sad you just have to laugh* zegt:
if I get fired tomorrow , your theory is proven
K_x (dirty numb angel boy - Drink the six mile water) zegt:
hehehehe


I am thoroughly convinced there is an odd cult of nightstore owners that has made Lier its centre. There are by now at least 4 nightstores in Lier that I know of. The original one was about 10 minutes walk from here and was originally run by two brothers, until the elder one killed the younger and after that another one opened up so I never went there again.

The newer nightstore was only a 5 minute walk, and was run by a rather large friendly man. A very friendly man. He was always so cheerful and would ask how I was doing and compliment my dog (this was back when I still walked it and sometimes took it places, but its repeated jumping on cash registers and peeing against windows forced me to abandon this) and he would always offer me a drink in his private quarters, which I always politely declined. He just seemed like a very friendly little man who was happy someone understood his English.

Then he tricked my brother into giving him my cellphone number (it's rather easy to trick my brother, he claimed we went to school together, which just doesn't make all that much sense) and he called me practically every day, inviting me over for drinks. To make matters worse, he then began to take the same bus as me, and he would always sit very close to me. After having rejected his advanced for about 3 months, he turned the nightstore over to someone else (no, I'm not big-headed enough to claim these two events are related) and a new one opened up, this one only a 2 minute walk away. Yes, they're all in the same street, practically next to each other, I never got it either.

The new nightstore was run by a Pakistan man, with very bad hairplugs. The kind that look like plastic pins stuck in the skull. He was also a very nice man. So nice that he managed to grope me halfway up the arm and rub it all the way down whenever he handed me my change. He would also find things to compliment, though the dog was not an option, since by now I no longer let him accompany me.

After a while this man also gave up the nightstore business and it was taken over by another large man, who was very civil at first, but after a while began the same 'grope and return money' bit. I could almost believe it's a cultural thing, except that this one would always very ostentatively wave his pink bracelet that you could get at Navigaytion and other places alike, in my face. Only when I was the only customer though. He would also comment on my jeans, as in, snug.

Getting a bit tired of it, I gave the second nightstore another try, meanwhile taken over by another man. I don't even need to say what started happening shortly after :p

It's a cult. A cult of gay nightstore owners that for some reason all come to Lier to pick up men with promises of free Wodka. There is no other explanation. Then the good news: the latest one is , while far from attractive, a huge step forward.

I am eagerly awaiting his replacement.

Boy Toy of the Blog is another Jiri. Or possibly the same one with a silly cap on. Whatever.

Pamela Anderson, despite having no apparant job, is in the 'news' a lot lately. She also took off her clothes a lot lately. And by lately, I mean since she turned 16, in 1925, when the world was just revovering from the First Great War, as Pam calls it. Here she is wearing a 'dress' and we wonder why she bothered. A quick shot of her rubbing lotion all over herself. There's a ton of pictures with her rubbing and rubbing, but really, there's not a straight person who reads this stuff and I've never heard a lesbian proclaim Pamela Anderson a hottie. And here she is in a bikini, (traumatizing) playing with her kids. Nice funbags mommy!

When the jester sang for the King and Queen

Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
surely, though I am dissappointed
Deemer / zegt:
why so
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
because sour is a good look for me
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
bah humbug
Deemer / zegt:
bumhug?
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I'd love a bumhug
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I guess
Deemer / zegt:
bumhugs are .. always fun? I.. guess?
Deemer / zegt:
I'm confused
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I think it would look weird
Deemer / zegt:
yeah.. sorta.
Deemer / zegt:
especially in public
Deemer / zegt:
.. and with a random person
Deemer / zegt:
anyhoo
Deemer / zegt:
goodnight crazy bobman.
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
goodnight bumhugger

For those who are challenged in the sense department: it's bleeping hot! While all I want to do, is crawl under a rock and wait for a cooler day, the kids at the day care insist on playing outside, in the full sun. And they insist I accompany them. There's like 8 others, but nooooooo, I have to go stand in the sun. I'm actually getting a tan. Which hasn't occurred since 1993.

Working in the vacation is very different than in the school year. First of all, obviously, because there are kids around all day. Secondly because we do more organised activities (which we all scratched yesterday in favour of playing with water) and third, because there all a hell of a lot more kids (damnit, I only JUST had the names of the regular 70 memorised.)

In other news: Mister Flufferton - Whiskersniffs has survived, all rejoice. Rens and me met up in Antwerp (it had been a year since we actually saw each other and considering we'd been msn'ing bullshit for all that time, we figured it was time to do it in real life. We succeeded admirably.). Also, I hate the new summer fashion, there is not a pair of pants in H&M I'd consider wurming myself into, except maybe those of the sales boy, but that for a whole different reason. Lorre and me went for a late night terrace and we were squeezed in between loud Dutch people and a stag party. Which was so entertaining we stayed much longer than we had planned. The groom-to-be was seriously liquored up, as were most of the guests, and he continually pawed the other men and tried to kiss them. His father-in-law-to-be (wow, hyphen orgy), a grey, fat little man, showed off his pubic hair (also grey, grissly and more ample than the hairs on his head) and his lesbian daughter kept scoffing for him to come home, which he ignored with all the drunk dignity he could muster. Somewhere along the proceedings the bridal party also arrived, which resulted in a fight between the engaged party, and with the bride-to-be humping the groom's best man. It was glorious from beginnin 'till end, we laughed, we speculated and we commented, perhaps too loudly at times. I imagine them to be like the Pfaffs, if the Pfaffs didn't have money and a mansion and a couple of daughters that are considered good-looking by ailing grandfathers and furiously masturbating virgins with dental problems. Don't ask how I know about their dental problems, it just seems sort of obvious to me.

Dear oh dear, how I'd love to be at that wedding!

Boy Toy of the Blog is James, who looks all wholesome and sort of like he should be driving a tractor, while wearing an overall with only on clasp closed.

Only very vaguely related: I seem to be developing a fetish for bus drivers. I don't know if it's the fact that I'm on the bus all the bleeping time, the uniforms, or the fact that De Lijn has apparantly fired half their drivers to replace them by virile young men that look like movie stars. I was on 4 buses today and each of the drivers was in his twenties, and quite hot. Anyone else notice an increase in attractive bus drivers, or is it just on my lines?

Our top topic of the day: useless celebrities and why people care about them. I'm not even going to mention Paris bleeping Hilton, because, really, what's left to say and I suppose technically she does have some sort of career (mainly having her 'nipples' 'accidentally' 'slip' out of her 'clothes'). Same goes for that atrocity of nature I have such a great dislike for. Though it actually hurts to refer to what she does as a career, it is technically one.

No, I am talking about those people of whom no one really knows what it is they do for a living, and yet they show up everywhere, pictures are taken and splattered across magazines and it is as if no one ever dares to just say: look, who are you and why are you here?

Prime example of this is Bai Ling or Ling Bai, I have no idea which is right. Yes, according to IMDB she has been in some movies. Thrilling roles as 'Girl', 'Panelist', 'Punky Photographer', 'Miss East'. All Oscar worthy and just overlooked I am sure. Her main claim to fame is that her one scene in Star Wars III was cut and she said it was because of her Playboy centerfold, which is ridiculous, because everyone already knew what Bai Ling's goodies look like. She has them out and about whenever she is out and about, which is everytime a camera snaps. Annoyingly enough, despite an obvious lack in taste, brains, or noticeable talent (hey, I saw Wild Wild West and she was crap as Miss East), this overexposing of herself and her not-so-private parts seems to work. She has four movies coming up where her character actually has a name.

Jodie Marsh really has been showcased enough, as has Jordan. They do nothing, except show their ample fake - I hesitate to call them this - breasts, and yet they're everywhere.

Kevin Federline is another puzzle. Yes, he married a famous popstar and turned her into a greasy blubbering mess, quite an achievement. He also released his own album, which no one liked. No one. Not even Mariah Carey's Glitter was disliked by everyone and I'm pretty sure she skins baby kittens to make slippers out of them. Also, he's not attractive, even when he tries to be, and he's not funny, even when he's pretending to rear end his wife.

Remember when Tara Reid was a talented young actress? No? Me either. But remember when she was a young girl, who did get a lot of movie roles and was adored by many? Because she was, around the time of American Pie and Urban Legend and stuff like that. Now she's just a pumped up, pudgy, boozing cow, whose last 'job' was Taradise, and that's sad enough to make any girl cry. Especially a girl that once had her hands firmly on Jared Bleeping Leto.

Brandon Davis is the ultimate example of someone who does nothing. Like Paris, he is the child of a multi-million dollar family and he will not need to work a day in his life. He's actually worse than Paris, because at least she still does things even though she doesn't need the money. Davis shot to fame for being a druggie, drinker, dating Misha Barton from the O.C. and calling Lindsay Lohan a Firecrotch. He is currently in rehab and one can only hope he will die, I mean, heal there.

While I get annoyed at the sight and/or sound of Hillary Duff, she has done things to deserve her status of teen queen. She was Lizzie McGuire, which seems to mean a whole lot, she made music and had new teeth put in. What puzzles me is why her sister, Haylie Duff is just as famous as she is. She looks vaguely like her, yes, like if her twin brother would dress up like a woman, he would look like Haylie. She sings background on her sister's songs, hooray for nepotism. And what? She sneaks into every damn picture of her sister and smiles her, not replaced, teeth into one of the most maniacal grins I've seen since my dad heard that my mum drove her car into a creek.

And then there is Courtney Peldon (and to a lesser extent the unfortunately named sister, Brown Peldon, really, Brown. Like a bear. yes, her name is Brown.) who is always everywhere, almost always wearing something so heinous it almost seems like she's being ironic about it and why is she there? According to IMDB again, she has done some movie work. Guest starring in a couple of episodes of whatever, with descriptions such as:

Five teenage girls learn that they have been chosen to guard the walls between parallel universes. For this purpose, they have been given the powers of the elements.

Basically she has done nothing to deserve any attention whatsoever, except maybe from a merciful stylist. And still, she is everywhere. She practically deserves a blog dedicated just to her and her horrible outfits.

*deep sigh*

Anyways, I remember when I saw Bend it like Beckham and that Keira Knightley was so freshfaced and pretty and sort of cool and how she then made it big and was still pretty, though she made some real stinkers of movies. She must have taken it hard, because this is what that pretty freshfaced girl looks like now. Imagine sex with that. Now imagine explaining to the doctor how you cut off your nipples when you made contact with her ribs.

Another adherent of the legion of the foodless is meanwhile trying to concince us she is putting on weight in a very cunning way. She has bought a shirt 5 sizes too small and now parades the city, screaming at everyone: "You see! You see! I eat! I am bursting out of my clothes, are you happy now?!!? Oh God, I need to purge and have half a lemon slice."

I don't think I mentioned this, but I like Lindsay Lohan. I liked her as a fiery busty redhead in Mean Girls, because that was just so good. I liked her as an attention whore in the mediocre Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, I enjoyed her in Freaky Friday, I liked her as a drugged out blonde who just kept creating vendettas with other teen queens after sleeping with their boyfriends, I smirked as her breasts kept falling out her dress whenever, I liked her when she kept crashing cars and blaming the paparazzi, I like how her publicist seems more and more desperate every time she has to deny yet another rumour about her client and I'm waiting for the moment when I read an article about Lindsay being strangled and her publicist screaming "TRY TO EXPLAIN THIS TO THE MEDIA BITCH!", I ESPECIALLY liked her when she made Jessica Simpson cry. In short, she's a talented train wreck with a temperament and tons of entertainment.

I'm not crazy about THIS Lindsay. Holy Kazooks!

In closing: Li'l Kim was released from prison and she wasted no time returning to her routine of letting her breasts fall out of her dress. Bravo, may we all withstand trial and hardship in such a brave way.

En elke zondagmiddag is het feest in de straat

Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
some guy on msn I don't remember just kissed me
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
creepy
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
he speaks an odd mixture of english and dutch, i can't decide what language to use
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
taiwanese!
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
[.. you can ignore that]
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
ignored
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
damn, who is this person
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
haha
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
I hate that
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
ugh, crap


Camperson zegt:
plannen voor tonght?
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
nope, probably op café of zow
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
jij?
Camperson zegt:
hadto much wine to drive now....
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
that's no good
Camperson zegt:
the only thing i can have is some cybersex...

Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
haha
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
this is going well
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
hmm, according to his profile he's from *beep*
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
maybe it's one of lorre's aliases
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
nah, his english is better
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
he stopped talking, guess he got suspicious
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
aww
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
too bad
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
seemed very entertaining
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
ah, he asks for cam
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
Well, I don't have one
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
this guy is ffing weird
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
i'm so gonna make him cam, just so maybe i'll know who the hell he is
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
yeah
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
still, this is funny
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
sorta mean to keep a drunk man on the line though
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
plus
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
he's gonna want me to 'give instructions' and I'm soooo bad at that
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I was never any good at phone or cyber sex
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
just be like
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"jerk off."
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"okay now keep doing that 'till you have an orgasm"
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"enjoy"
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I'm not sure that'll turn him on
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
just call him bitch in between
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"jerk off, bitch"
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"now keep doing that 'till you have an orgasm, bitch"
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"enjoy, bitch"
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
see?
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
you've done this , I take it
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
yes =] I have cybersex with weird people who talk english/dutch on my msn who I don't even know
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
he's preparing the show
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
If I see chickens or any ofther farm life...
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
whut?
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
dunno, he needs 5 more minutes to prepare
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
no idea what that means
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
wow
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"I'm still trying to take my pants off!"
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
ieuw
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
dirty white boxers
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
classy
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
scratch that, white undershirt TUCKED into dirty white boxers
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
he wants me to tell him
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
help
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
help
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
damnit, you
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I suck at this
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
who still wears undershirts? it's 2006! and it's boiling hot
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
ieuw, shiny penis head
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I could really use some feedback here
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
you know, he seems to be doing fine without me meddling
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
damnit, if at least he showed his face, I might know who the hell he is
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I'm not even sure what I'm looking at anymore
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
might be an elbow
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I want it to stop
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
pretend you're really getting in to it
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
would it be rude to like block him now
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
no. no it would not be.
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
but
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
you wouldn't know what he looks like
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
almost over thank god
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I don't fucking care what he looks like
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I cannot know this person very well
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
none of my friends would do this to me
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I think he splattered the lense
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I am way too polite to people
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
really
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
the picture is all milky now
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
screw this, let him finish by himself , I' gonna play hartenjagen
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
seriously
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
block'm.
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
after he's done
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
only seems polite
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"I GOTTA GO BYEBYE."
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
i'll just check the window every once in a while
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
haha okay
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
this is taking too long, i'm gonna say something encouraging
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
"who's my big brave boy?"
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
uh
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
i just said
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
go for it
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
mine was nicer
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
i must be the worst cyber sex ever
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
weird & creepy. but nicer.
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I'm even cheating with you
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
haha
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
you slut you
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
though you might be more interesting and have better underwear on
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
I hope
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
oh lord do I hope
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
if his was a dirty white one
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
then yes
Deemer / Vows are spoken to be broken zegt:
yes I do have better underwear
Endless Audacity *Shred moi* zegt:
ah, he's done