Helloo, my lovelies! As the weekend beckons, I have decided to end the working days on a rant for a change.
More specifically, a rant about words and phrases that really piss me off annoy me.
For example; people who say 'Pacifically' instead of 'Specifically'. My response upon hearing that is to ask them if they were pertaining to an ocean, or trying to make a point?
The misuse of the word 'Ultimate' also gets my hackles up. If a drink is 'The Ultimate' then it is the last one. It does not mean that it tastes good.
If someone calls me sophisticated, I try not to take offence but on occasion I inform them that a 'Sophist' is generally one who uses rhetorical sleight-of-hand and ambiguities of language in order to deceive, or to support fallacious reasoning. The person's response is generally to stare at me as though I'd asked them for a lightly grilled stoat inna bun, but I'm used to that.
People who say things like 'The pain was like I had an elephant sitting on me' annoy me too. Have they ever had an elephant sitting on them? No? Well shut TF up then.
If I make a comment about say, how heavy the rain was earlier in the day and am met with the rejoinder 'Tell me about it', then I will, often to the confusion of the person that is caught in the middle of a meteorological report.
But right now, there is a phrase going around that is being used far too often and it's really getting on my tits nerves.
It is this - "At the end of the day"
I swear I hear it said about twenty times a day.
I went to meet a friend yesterday and stopped to talk to someone en route, and they used the expression three times in about three minutes.
If I have daytime television on as background noise and a programme such as Jeremy Kyle or Trisha comes on, then I can guarantee that every single chav or chavette will say those words at least twice. Watch the shows if you don't believe me.
Reporters on the news are also guilty. I lost count of how many times I heard them say that 'At the end of the day', Michael Jackson was the King of Pop, or a nonce, or whatever.
The ex-partner-in-crime started using the phrase until I used aversion therapy* to stop him.
I've just heard used in a weather report as well.
I think, it may be contagious.
There are many other expressions, such as 'When all's said and done', 'In the cold light of day', or 'When the fat lady's sung', so why the bloody hell is everybody using that same one?
It must be stopped, else every time I hear someone say 'At the end of the day' again, I will start screaming, and I won't stop screaming until the cows come home.

And now my cherubs, it is your turn. What phrase, expression or misuse of the English language gets your gander up? Tell me all in the knowledge that your secrets, as ever, are safe with me.
Oh, and I wish you all a wonderful weekend as well.

ttfn!



*I flicked him on the nose every time he said it.

Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, egg & chips

From: gnsbl1@inmail24.com
Subject: Hello
Date: Thu, 18 Jun 2009 03:55:02 +0200
Hi Friend,
I am Melissa Agnes Able, 25 yrs old girl in search of a man who understands love as trust and faith rather seeing it as a way of fun always but a matured man with sense of humour. I’m interested in having a relationship with you and I want to know more about you, let see if we can share common interest together.
I think we should be friends and get acquainted, cause you seem pretty fun, and cute! (It’s ever so hard to tell in this digital world :) anyway, I want to get a response from you...Then maybe we could chat sometime! You know what they say, appearance wins over the eyes, but personality wins over the heart...haha.
I believe we can start from here; if you don’t mind you can email me back with brief introduction of your self and I shall tell you more details that you will like to know about me including pictures of me so you can see how beautiful I am. Enjoy your beautiful day, talk to you very soon.
Cheers,
Melissa

Date: Tue, 23 Jun 2009 14:13:10
Subject: Hello to you as well!
From:mysti @yahoo.com
Dear Melissa,
I'm so very, very happy to get your email as it really, really makes me happy to know that I have a new friend, and one so pretty as well! And you guessed correctly! I am pretty fun and cute, yeah!
So, you asked for a brief description of myself!!! Oooh, where to start??? Haha! Well, I enjoy going to my local Church Group (of course!) playing with other girls at the pony club, dressing up to go out wiv my m8s!!! *LOLZ* and of course I absolutely adore kittens!!! (Dur! Who doesn't, a?!)
I'm also looking for a really good girl friend, especially one who's beautiful like you sez UR! Nobody wants to go out with the Grrrlz for a nite and drag a rite minger along with them, do they? *LOLZ* U no wot I means, a?
Anyway, listen to me going on and on again!? *LOLZ* I bet you have lots more intersting things to do that listening to me rabbit, aintcha!? (Dur!!!!!!!) Specially as your also looking for a fit bloke. I'm tellin ya, I no the feelin well, innit! The geezers round here are all right chavs who think taking a girl out for a good time is buying her a WKD and a KFC, then trying it on with you round the back of Sainsburys, innit! *LOLZ*
I'm really, really looking forward to hearing from you again and can't wait to have loads of girly chats wiv you, my new best M8! :-D
Enjoy your beautiful day too, and I pray that God doesn't give you a dose of the clap like he did to my m8 Lisa just coz she got off my my last bloke Wayne.
Luvz ya already!
Misty

Date: Mon, 22 Jun 2009 18:41:00 +0200
Subject: Hello,
From: edithpatrik@yahoo.com
Hello,
How are you today? I hope you are fine. If so thank be to God almigthy.
I found very interesting to write you and I am very happy to send this mail to you.It gives me great joy and happiness to say hi to you this day and i hope to tell you more about me and my family when next I write to you. My name is Edith Patrick , 24 years old single girl and I hope that we can be friends and keep contact with each other if God wishes and I hope to hear from you soon.
Edith Patrick

Date: Tue, 23 Jun 2009 12:27:40
Subject: Hello to you too!
From: mysti @yahoo.com
Dear Edith,
Thank you so very much for your charming email! I am very interesting to write to, yes, and indeed it must bring you great joy on this wonderful day to recieve an email written to you, by me! I would love to hear more about you and your family, I really, seriously would, but God just told me that he's very angry with you as you are not really called Edith, and neither are you a girl, but in fact you are a con-artist who deserves to have his nadgers cut off by a rusty penknife, and that I'm not to talk to you ever again.
Sorry about that, enjoy God Almigthy's wrath!
Misty.

PS. My email is working again. Woohoo!

And as Wednesday rolls around once again, this Double Entendre Day finds me feeling rather naughty and breaking the rules somewhat.

The reason being is that I was sent a link to a fab photo for 'the blog' by a reader and fellow Flickrite, but although the pic was fab, I didn't feel it quite right for today's post.
I thanked the chap muchly and went on to sniffing through his photos on Flickr and I found one of the funniest piccies I've seen in ages, and decided I simply must share it with you lot so that you can add your usual excellent and smutty funny comments.

But, as I type this post, it is 01:07 hours, and I haven't yet received the gentleman's permission to use said fab piccy here, but I'm going to take a chance and post it with a full credit and link etc, in the hope that he'll wake up and let the photo stay up.
If he says no, I shall remove the pic straight away and flagellate myself with a kipper as atonement.

So, this is the photo as snapped by Mr John Horsey.

You can peruse the rest of his lovely piccies by clicking here, pray that he lets me keep this post up, and also get straight into stuffing my box with as much as you can give me as I'm gagging for another 69.
There's a portion of bamboo shoots going for every entry, and a delicious Panda Pop available should I get me that soixante-neuf!

So without further ado,

Get.

Stuck.

In.

Socks

Quite a lot of moons ago when I was about nine years old, my mother came home with a scrap of a pup who'd been orphaned as the girls who'd been looking after her weren't allowed to have animals in their flat. We already had one dog, Chips, and so my parents both agreed that we'd only look after the pup until a new home was found for her. Fifteen years later we still hadn't found a home for her, as I for one couldn't bear to give her up, and also Chips looked upon her as a pup of his own and taught her how to behave properly in and out of the house, bless 'im.
She was a Borderline Collie, we named her Sheba and within months her own personality began to shine through.
To say she was mad as a brush on occasion was an understatement, but she always kept everyone entertained with her antics.
One of her favourite games was to play on the slide at the local playground, and it wasn't one of those tiny little plastic slides you get nowadays in the Nanny State known as England, but one of those slides that towered into the heavens and gave you a nosebleed when you reached the top of the wrought iron steps. Many children were too afraid to climb the slide, but not Sheba the wonderdog, oh no. She'd scamper up the steps and launch herself down the slide with gusto, often to the surprise of children who were brave enough to wait in line to hurtle down the death chute.
Sheba also liked to climb things, once much to the surprise of a chap who was fixing the chimney when he turned round to find Sheba sitting beside him on the roof. We had to attach a chair to ladders after that else she'd be up them quick as a flash, but unable to get back down on her own.
There were also the times such as when we took her on a boating holiday, when she endeavoured to take home a branch, and caused a fight, and regular readers may remember the tale of Socks and Violence.
This is another tale of Shebie's obsession with Socks.
One fine summer's day, I was in the park with a friend, Sheba, Chips, and my friend's dog. We were about eleven at the time (Us humans, not the dogs) and had spent a wonderful time playing along the banks of the river.
We were wending our way home when we heard some very strange sounds coming from a copse up ahead, and after listening for a short while we wondered if someone was in trouble as to our young, innocent ears, it sounded as if a man was having trouble breathing.
We stood there whilst trying to work out what to do and unknown to us, Shebie had gone ahead to investigate.
Next thing we heard was a startled cry of "Oi, gerrof!" followed by a bark from Sheba.
Next thing we saw was a man trying to run out of the copse with his shorts and pants around his ankles after Sheba who was proudly carrying a trophy sock in her mouth.
A few seconds later, a woman also came out of the copse, looking rather nervous and hastily adjusting her attire.
We weren't stupid.
We realized what had been going on and we did the only thing we could think of in the circumstances which was to hoof it away, as fast as our legs could carry us, with the dogs following us, Shebie still carrying her new found treasure, and the angry shouts of the man interrupted still ringing in our ears.
We went to a different part of the park to play in after that.

Well, it's definitely Monday.

After a weekend of no electricity, I finally manage to get some cash together so that I can see at night and power up the 'puter, only to find that I can't get any emails. For some reason I keep getting told that my password or username is wrong, despite the fact that it isn't. If anyone can tell me how to persuade the machine that I am giving it the correct information, please do so in my comments box, and if you've emailed me recently, you now know why I haven't replied.

Anyhoo, also as it's definitely Monday, it's time for the Choose-O, your options for which are -

• Socks
• Reverse
• Roundabout

And before I go, here's a little quiz to brighten your day and to find out How Sane You Are!
It's good fun, and I reckon it's also fairly accurate as my result says that I am certifiable, yay!
So tell me your results which are totally secret as I won't tell anyone else except the voices in my head, akay? Oh, and tell me about your weekends as well while you're down there.
Happy Monday everyone!

Yesterday's comments got me thinking yet again, and also remembering a conversation I had with a most excellent friend of mine who suggested revamping the game of Cluedo.

My friend's version uses Gods and countries instead of the usual characters and rooms, which would result in murders along the lines of 'Jesus, in France, with a plague of locusts', or 'Thor, in Australia, with a fiery sword'. A most entertaining version in my opinion.

And as I already said, yesterday's comments are also somewhat inspiring for new varieties of Cluedo, such as 'Macauly Culkin, in the library, with the turkey baster'*, 'Macaulay Caulkin in the bedroom with a lead-pipe'**, and 'Miss Whiplash, in the dungeon with the nipple clamps'***
All fabulous suggestions which would surely make 'after Christmas dinner with the relatives' party gaming far more exciting than the original.

So today's question I put to you is, 'What Version of Cluedo Would You Most Like to Make?'

Simples, eh?

Over to you then.



*Thank you wild-seven.
**Thank you, Tzonar.
***Again, thank you wild-seven.

I've got a question for you lot today.

I've been thinking about it for a while now, well, ever since Wacko Jacko died and it was revealed that no-one knows who the real parents of his three children are.

Naturally, many mad women have claimed to be the mother of the kiddies, but 'those in the know' have said that they most emphatically are not, and although Debbie Rowe was the surrogate for the first two, she's now revealed that she was impregnated via the turkey baster method.

So, just whose spawn spawned Michael Jackson's sprogs then?

My money's on Richard & Judy.

So. Wesdnesday.

AKA Double Entendre Day.

Which mean it's Caption Competition time.



So erm...

Get in there then!

A chip for every entry, and a fishcake should I get me a 69!

Green Lion

The readers among you with razor sharp memories may recall that many moons ago I worked in a nursery school for a while. Mostly the job was good fun, like when one of the little ones would proudly show me a piece of art they'd worked on, or watching them learn to read on their own and so, but the getting thrown up on and having to help change the little darlings after they'd had 'accidents in the toilet' were not so fabulous.
Also, there were the incidents such as the one with the Bumblespider that terrified me to my very soul until I figured out WTF it was, and although not as scary, this tale is very similar.

The nursery was held in a church hall which fortunately came with a car park big enough for the little ones to use as a playground, the only slight downside of which was that it didn't have a gate at the entrance to stop the tiny-tots escaping out into the road if we didn't keep an eye on them. No matter how often we told them that they were not to play beyond the 'end of the wall', it wouldn't stop some of the older, naughtier children from trying it on and daring to play beyond the cars next to the entrance where anything could have happened to them.
After some debate between myself and Miss Carrie, the other girl who worked there, we came up with the idea of cordoning off an area of the car park with tape, but kids being brats kids, the older, naughtier ones used it as a skipping rope or to tie up the smaller children, so after more deliberation, we simply got a really large red crayon, and drew a line that if crossed, would result in ten minutes in the 'naughty corner'.
To our amazement, the red line worked. Whether it was the threat of the naughty corner or not we weren't sure, but it worked and the kids knew that to cross it was verboten!
It was so effective in fact, that most of the children wouldn't even play near it, which for us was a bonus as we didn't have eyes in the back of our heads, contrary to what the little'uns thought.
And so playtimes became a lot more fun. We could organize games without worrying that someone was going to run into the road and get splatted by a car, which for a nursery teacher is a bonus.
Weeks passed in the spring sunshine and with the exception of the day a rather large dog decided to join in a game of tag, all was peaceful, all was calm.
Until one day when a little boy came running over to me and Miss Carrie in tears and saying that the Green Lion had captured his friend and he was scared that he wouldn't see him again.
We tried to calm him down so that we could try and find out what on earth he was on about, but all we could get out of him was that the Green Lion had stolen his friend as he'd been very bad, and he was scared that he'd never get him back.
We asked him to show us where the Green Lion was, but the tot was so distraught he wasn't making any sense at all. He wouldn't even point in the direction of this nasty, friend stealing Green Lion, such was his terror.
It was right at the end of playtime so we herded the rest of the kids into the hall and I took the boy into a quiet corner to try to find out what was happening.
We took a register to make sure all the children were present and correct and as none were AWOL we figured that at least the boy's friend wasn't one of them, which was good.
After another ten or so minutes, the poor boy was still in tears and we were no closer to finding out what was up, so I went outside to see if I could find any clues.
I looked all around the playground and was about to go back in when I spotted a very small teddy bear lying about five feet across the red line.
Suddenly all became clear and grabbing the bear I dashed back into the hall and asked the boy if it was his missing friend.
To our delight, the tears stopped immediately and the boy hugged the small bear as hard as he could.
Turned out that he hadn't yet learnt about colours and thought that red was green, had mis-heard the word 'line', and as we'd instilled such a strong warning about anything crossing the Red Line, he thought his bear was gone forever, poor little thing.
Kids eh? A most excellent source of entertainment, but I still don't want one of my own.

And so another wonderful weekend has passed, the highlight of which was when I went to a local supermarket during a particularly hot time of the day. I'd dressed for the weather and was wearing a pair of shorts, styled t-shirt that was almost as long as the shorts, and had my hair up. In brief, I was feeling all happy and summery, so summery in fact that I thought I was going to melt and if I'd been wearing make-up it would have slipped down to my ankles.
So. I was wombleing around the fruit and veg section when one of the store assistants looked right at me, smiled broadly and said "You look really hot!"
I pondered the comment for a second before replying, "In what respect...?"
I still don't know if he thought I was looking good or if I was doing a fair impression of a penguin in a sauna...
Anyhoo, moving on rapidly, as it's Monday once again it's time for this week's Choose-O Options, and this week they are -

• Socks
• Green Lion
• Reverse

Choose wisely ma li'l chickadees, and don't forget to tell me all about your fabulous weekend adventures while you're down there, akay?

And last but not least, here is a special 'Kitteh for Monday'!

Enjoy!

Following an autopsy, doctors have dismissed a number of possible causes of the death of Michael Jackson- skin cancer, lycanthropy, and hard partying- leaving the cause of death (rather ironically) as excessive dancing.

So it's official-

Don't blame it on the sunshine
Don't blame it on the moonlight
Don't blame it on the good times
Blame it on the boogie.



R.I.P Jacko.

Today, I am once again sort of nicking an idea from that there Scaryduck, as a) I've been pondering about the idea for a while, and b) my brain has turned to peanut butter again and I can't think of anything else to post.

It is this -

If you could be a Super Hero, what would you be called and what would your Super Power be?

I reckon I'd be 'Wolf Girl', with the ability to hunt down villains no matter how far they go or how well they hide, and rip the throats out of anyone that crossed me with a simple nip. Being able to smell what day of the week it was would also be a bonus, as would being able to bring down a cow if anyone fancied a really big barbecue!
And before anyone says anything, yes I know it's very Angua*


So, thinking caps and pants over tights on, and over to you!

And don't forget to have a fabulous weekend if possible!

ttfn,



*My greatest accolade evah, is that Terry says that I am Angua in the flesh, straight out of the pages of the books, and that wasn't just because I growled at him either!

Some days just don't go as well as you plan, as this for me, was one of those days.

But better late than never, I'm taking a leaf out of Scaryduck's Lazy Blogging and providing you some entertainment from a lesser knon band, The Shirehorses.

Please to enjoy.

Country Spouse.

Feel like Shite

Roll with it

Tony

You're Gormless

So...

Double Entendre Day once again...

You know you want to stuff my box... you want to give it to me good and keep stuffing away until I get to a delicious 69...

Don't cha...?

Yeah ya do, so I'm gonna give you something to get you hot...

So hot, you won't be able to resist banging away at my box until you're thoroughly spent, and you're just left in a damp, deliciously wasted puddle...

Sound good?

Yeah, it does to me too, so I'm gonna show ya the goods that'll getcha steaming hot and ready for action, akay?

Here ya go -

There's a packet of pork scratchings going for every entry, and a pint of lager available should anybody deliver me a good, hot, delicious 69...

Sound good?

You know you can't resist, so without further preamble...

Get.

In.

There.

NOW!