I've come to the conclusion I shall never understand English women, they really, really have a tendency to fuck my head up, here's an example of what I mean, I got this message off a girl
I can't wait 'til I've got your teeth marks on my arse, so I know I'm your girl.
( this isn't exaggerated for dramatic effect and there were several others featuring profanity that surprised even me)
Unless I'm being shockingly nave, the meaning behind this is pretty clear, hence my confusion when I got this from the same girl several days later:
We're better off as friends
(which of course means I don't want to talk to you ever again in girl speak )
Do I give off pheromones that only the mentally unhinged can detect? There seems to be a distinct whiff of eau du mentalist to this affair or am I wrong?
I met my brother the other day for coffee and told him all the shit that's been swirling 'round my head lately, it's kind of cool having a trainee counsellor for a brother I have to say, I suppose it's just behind priest in the handy vocations for a brother to be in. He said my main problem is I compare myself with other people and then feel like I'm inferior because I don't have the same things, which is very true, I don't value myself at all because I don't think anyone else does which is only exaggerated by my complete lack of a social life and while anyone who's been reading my rambling dissertations for any amount of time will realise I have a talent for self-deprecating humour I'm not saying it as a humorous comment, I literally have no social life at all.
I realised that unsurprisingly I want the same things most people want, I want to be valued and appreciated and I want to find someone I can share my life with not just in a sex way although that's pretty important,these things are pretty universal. Sex is hard wired into the human mind, pretty much everybody wants it and like money everybody constantly wants more and from an evolutionary point of view it's a good job too or we'd be an extinct species yet. For some reason actually acknowledging this is a faux pas and is greeted by the usual knee jerk humour response us English people always apply to sex. I realised the other day that the last time I had sex was before the Iraq war started. Which of course means it fills me with mortal dread, for all those people who say it's like riding a bike (not literally of course unless you're strangely flexible and like to be different) I can't ride a bike. I don't know why I'm bringing this up since the situation isn't likely to change anytime soon.
In work related news I've officially been moved after 5 years working in the Bakery, as of this Monday I'm now working on Dry Goods more specifically in the warehouse on the back door, I was given less than a weeks notice too which was nice I have to say. I was told by The Management that they needed someone reliable to replace someone but I have a sneaking suspicion that my cretin of a former manager may have been performing Machiavellian manoeuvres in the background. It's means I get an extra hour in bed , don't go on checkouts and don't really have to deal with customers but I'm a bad fit since I have no interest in football or The Sun or Fray Bentos pies. Also I spend most of my day on my own which is rather boring it has to be said and my team consists purely of blokes rather unsociable ones too, which is a pain since I get on with women better which is ironic considering my above statement about sex I know.
Sorry about the overly wordy blog and lack of pretty pictures, normal service will resume shortly.
I can't wait 'til I've got your teeth marks on my arse, so I know I'm your girl.
( this isn't exaggerated for dramatic effect and there were several others featuring profanity that surprised even me)
Unless I'm being shockingly nave, the meaning behind this is pretty clear, hence my confusion when I got this from the same girl several days later:
We're better off as friends
(which of course means I don't want to talk to you ever again in girl speak )
Do I give off pheromones that only the mentally unhinged can detect? There seems to be a distinct whiff of eau du mentalist to this affair or am I wrong?
I met my brother the other day for coffee and told him all the shit that's been swirling 'round my head lately, it's kind of cool having a trainee counsellor for a brother I have to say, I suppose it's just behind priest in the handy vocations for a brother to be in. He said my main problem is I compare myself with other people and then feel like I'm inferior because I don't have the same things, which is very true, I don't value myself at all because I don't think anyone else does which is only exaggerated by my complete lack of a social life and while anyone who's been reading my rambling dissertations for any amount of time will realise I have a talent for self-deprecating humour I'm not saying it as a humorous comment, I literally have no social life at all.
I realised that unsurprisingly I want the same things most people want, I want to be valued and appreciated and I want to find someone I can share my life with not just in a sex way although that's pretty important,these things are pretty universal. Sex is hard wired into the human mind, pretty much everybody wants it and like money everybody constantly wants more and from an evolutionary point of view it's a good job too or we'd be an extinct species yet. For some reason actually acknowledging this is a faux pas and is greeted by the usual knee jerk humour response us English people always apply to sex. I realised the other day that the last time I had sex was before the Iraq war started. Which of course means it fills me with mortal dread, for all those people who say it's like riding a bike (not literally of course unless you're strangely flexible and like to be different) I can't ride a bike. I don't know why I'm bringing this up since the situation isn't likely to change anytime soon.
In work related news I've officially been moved after 5 years working in the Bakery, as of this Monday I'm now working on Dry Goods more specifically in the warehouse on the back door, I was given less than a weeks notice too which was nice I have to say. I was told by The Management that they needed someone reliable to replace someone but I have a sneaking suspicion that my cretin of a former manager may have been performing Machiavellian manoeuvres in the background. It's means I get an extra hour in bed , don't go on checkouts and don't really have to deal with customers but I'm a bad fit since I have no interest in football or The Sun or Fray Bentos pies. Also I spend most of my day on my own which is rather boring it has to be said and my team consists purely of blokes rather unsociable ones too, which is a pain since I get on with women better which is ironic considering my above statement about sex I know.
Sorry about the overly wordy blog and lack of pretty pictures, normal service will resume shortly.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
rdpixie:
Its good to know there are other Therapy? fans in the world 
scarringthewound:
Yeah that's right, latex is hot, not to mention rubber, pvc, leather, velvet, suede, satin, tweed, fishnet, lace and even cotton sometimes if it's the right colour. I dream about the whole populace of london inextricably disappearing overnight but without their keys just so I can roam around alone, meandering through a lifetime's worth of dark abandoned buildings, like the Wandering jew although i'd call myself "the Wandering Scarring" 