A Post About Friends , Which In Retrospect Probably Contains The Word “Asshole” A Bit Too Much For The Subject Matter.

I don’t blog much these days, a fact that absolutely none of you will have noticed. It’s not that you don’t care. Or, well, you might not. You probably subscribed 3 years ago and then promptly forgot about my irregularly spurty waffle ( which sounds like something you should never ever Google. Just don’t. ) It’s all cool though, it happens. No judgement here.

But for those still subscribed I feel the need to thank you for your loyalty. And your inability to clear up your inactive blogger subscription. I also find it vital to take this opportunity to tell you that YOU are important to me. We’re best buds. Chums. I feel close enough to you to try to tap you for a fiver. Or ask you to buy me doughnuts and tampons whilst you’re down the shops anyway. It’s a beautiful friendship. Which is why it’s such a wonderful example of synchronicity that after randomly deciding to do my first post in yonks I scroll back through this morning’s emails and find today’s daily prompt is the word “Friends“.

Well bugger me sideways, what are the chances?

It’s been a busy [ insert actual time absent here, I’m too lazy to look it up. A year and a half maybe? ]. Work was frantic, sporadic, and largely semi-satisfying. I took time to eliminate the toxic aspects of my life and gained a certain level of peace. I started posting on Instagram. I challenged myself. I put myself on a diet and lost a crapload of weight. I took myself back off a diet because despite what I’d been absolutely certain of the last 4 decades, being skinny didn’t make me happier. Or younger. Or drop dead gorgeous. I feel particularly pissed about the last one, btw.

I’m still a bit mental. Not much but it’s there. My favourite quote of all time is “Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first make sure you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes.” And once I started an asshole eradication program I found my life went a lot more smoothly. I highly recommend it.

So now all I have is my family and my friends and it’s good. No, it’s really, *really* good. I thought for the longest time that to be happy I needed more. More money, more stuff, more achievements, a bigger better more me Me. More doughnuts, definitely. But turns out that what I really needed was less. Less pressure. Less assholes. And the friends? They’re just right. I feel I can finally tick them off my to-do list.

So, anyway, if you’re off down the shops………

Taking 5 minutes off Facebook to post my drivel in a slightly longer format.

I thought I would pre-empt the usual “Blog every day this year!” 1st of January post by ushering in the age of the short-lived but well-intentioned “Blog every day for the rest of 2014!” 30th December post. How well it catches on remains to be seen.

I’m not a consistent blogger. To be honest, I’m not a consistent *anything*, and sometimes that bothers me. And other times it doesn’t… because I can’t even be consistent about that. But I do like to write and I kick myself that I don’t do it more.. so this year, for the cazguillionth year running, I shall be attempting to make the effort to be creative every day. In theory this should be easy. I work in a creative field, and when I’m not working I have plenty of time. However, the small snappy chihuahua of mental instability is forever nipping at my ass, and I suspect the fact my ass is gravitating forever south isn’t helping any.

In a nutshell, I write this blog in an attempt to maybe just raise a smile or two, with varying degrees of success. My problem is that some days I can’t raise a smile myself. Some days I struggle to breathe under the weight of it all and it’s just not funny. And I don’t want to heap that up on your mailbox when all you want to do is just get on with your personal crapola without listening to mine.

So, I’m pondering this… and would value your opinion.

Considering I haven’t posted in over a year,( and haven’t consistently posted in closer to 2 ), it’s astounding that I still have a pretty hefty number of subscribers. I can only assume that I am largely forgotten and that folk are relatively lax on the “unsubscribing from lazy-ass bloggers who can’t be bothered to make an effort” front. It’s nice, and I would like to do my best not to upset those people who are mostly here for the lolz and bizarro chicken posts.

I’m thinking about either starting up a new blog which will probably head in a different direction ( less zombie chickens and lesbian-schoolgirl-seeking traffic ) and of a more serious nature, probably fiction … or I can split this one with tags but run the risk of people who like the general silliness not liking the new slightly-less-silliness and un-subscribing and taking their business elsewhere. Which would make me sad.
Of course there’s always the possibility that the old folk will like the new stuff… I just don’t know. It probably won’t be very good, I haven’t written fiction since I used to get around a table with my dinosaur chums on a Saturday night and brainstorm ideas about exciting new concept of fire, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give it a go.

So, if you happen to read this I would appreciate a vote. My expectations aren’t high though, it’s been a while.

And as a thank you please feel free to enjoy what is most definitely the most unflattering picture of me EVER. Cos you just can’t have too many shots of the inside of my nostrils.

I know, I'm sexy.

I know, I’m sexy.

I’m not here, ignore me.

I haven’t been around for quite a while. In fact, I haven’t been around since my single annual post that usually consists of the phrase “I haven’t been around for quite a while”. This has been occurring with enough regularity to have the phrase engraved on my tombstone ( which is moderately amusing when I think about it ). There are reasons. Madness. Facebook. Plushie brains. The usual. But none of which are interesting enough to share, let alone write about.

A month ago I decided to wipe this blog. You probably didn’t notice, but don’t beat yourself up about it… you were busy. The reasons for this were twofold.
1) People told me I was a good writer and should write a book or something. This, naturally, terrified me. Suddenly I became incapable of stringing sentences together in any coherent fashion whatsoever. Success..? What the heck was I supposed to do with that?? I instantly sought other avenues where failure was a sure thing. And you know what?? There’s LOADS of them. I was potentially guaranteed to be bloody useless at a new something for a very long time indeed. Ahhh… there was my comfort zone. Rather annoyingly I became moderately successful at a few of those things too, but I nipped those in the bud before anyone else noticed. *phew*
2) I got an email from my ex where, amongst other things, he mentioned one of my blog entries. Which coincidentally was about something he did that was rather silly that made him look like a bit of a lemon. Suddenly it dawned on me. This blog isn’t under my name, it’s under my professional online name.
What sort of moron has a private blog under the same name that they earn a living under?
(I’ll leave you to imagine me sheepishly raising my right hand at this point.)
Yup.
It’s through sheer good luck rather than any semblance of intelligence that I’ve never bitched about the industry I work in or the folk that inhabit the same particular swamp. But I could have. And if my ex can find me, anyone else can.
So I toyed with starting up a new blog, but my muse was nowhere to be found. He’s probably in Switzerland or something, living an entirely new identity under the witness protection program… so I just settled for deleting all my content.
“Hold on one sec, you loon,” I hear you say “But I can see what you’ve written. It’s right there…look.”
Well yes, I changed my mind this morning and re-imported the whole damn thing.
Why?
Rarasaur, that’s why. Or more accurately *this post*. Rara seems to be struggling a bit with the same issue. However, she’s more “get up and go” than me, and I usually have to resort to some serious industrial grade self-bribery to get anything done. For instance, for writing this I am rewarding myself with a KitKat Chunky. I introduced this reward system as a feeble attempt at self-encouragement, which has worked up to a point. The point being that my chocolate consumption has shot up 600%, which equates to a 20% increase of bodily mass. To put it bluntly, in return for being a good and focussed girl I rewarded myself with a 15% bigger arse. Considering the fact there’s already plenty of junk in this trunk this side effect hasn’t turned out to be terribly motivating. Yesterday I bought myself a huge bunch of fresh carrots with the intention of rewarding myself with crunchy carrot sticks and healthy dip. Last night I moved them to the end of the kitchen and ate the entire dip with half a family-size bag of Doritos.
Nevertheless, here I am, and I’m hoping to get back into the Daily Prompt.
I will, however, continue to ignore their handy tips on better blogging and building a healthy following because that’s a little too much like achieving something for my liking… and success? That’s something I shall be avoiding like carrots.

Repulsion. There might possibly be a bit of swearing at the end.

One of the things I like most about the Daily Prompt is that it gives me the opportunity to really think about a subject I wouldn’t otherwise bother with, and every now and then it gives me some sort of insight into myself that probably would have eluded me otherwise. This is usually a good thing, or I’d probably not be quite so keen on it. Nobody would be particularly thrilled to sign up for blogging prompts and suddenly find themselves realising that they have a deeply repressed urge to stalk the neighbourhood in the wee small hours skinning the local cats. That would just suck.

Today’s prompt was one such eye-opener.

“Think of something that truly repulses you. Hold that thought until your skin squirms. Now, write a glowing puff piece about its amazing merits.”

Firstly, I had to look up “puff piece”. I gathered from context a rough idea, but if I’m going to write about something I think the least I can do is make the effort to look it up for an accurate description. And yes, admittedly, there was a very small part of me that was slightly disappointed it wasn’t a porn industry term… cos that would have been kinda fun for WordPress. Ho hum, maybe next time.

Then, knowing what I was aiming for I looked carefully at the wording. And that’s when I had my glowing moment of self revelation.

Repulsion. That’s kinda strong. And I just don’t feel it.

I have things that I hate, things that make me angry, things that sicken me, lots of things that have horrified me… but complete repulsion? Nah, not really.
It’s not like I’ve lived a particularly sheltered life. I’ve seen stuff. More stuff than I should have really, but I’m a curious gal with an internet connection..it happens. But repulsion… true repulsion… that’s pretty big.

That’s not to say that there aren’t such huge things out there, because there are… However, I’m guessing that WordPress are pushing for amusing or insightful pieces about nasal mucus, spiders, or midget clown porn.

OK, possibly not the last one.

What they aren’t expecting is glowing commendations on the merits of , for example, paedophilia. You just…can’t. And if you can I’d really rather you go away and quit reading my blog. A quick skim through my blog search engine stats will reveal I’m pretty big with the perverts, but consider the line drawn. ( As an aside… if you really want to up your page views include the phrase “lesbian catholic schoolgirls” in your posts. It’s my number one page-draw, which makes me wonder exactly whether people who ended up on here continued to read, or just got very frustrated that the post where that phrase featured didn’t actually have any such action… red hot or otherwise. Suckerrrrs. )

So, we’re looking for a subject that’s a bit icky, but not utterly abhorrent, that I can waffle about briefly…and I’m drawing a blank.And what do I do when I’m grasping for inspiration? Facebook. Dear Sweet Facebook And It’s Assorted Internet Freaks Who Usually Have An Opinion On Everything.

Well, that was helpful.

*sigh*

Here goes….

Dog shit… it’s brilliant!! No really, I know what you’re thinking ” public menace, irresponsible pet owners, scraping your shoes on the curb for half an hour before you can go into your own house, all the charm of fish paste & cauliflower cheese mixed in a big bowl with a side serving of cat vomit *wince*..” but hear me out.
Have you ever considered it’s excellence in the field of crime prevention? One huge steaming pile and everyone’s going to be walking *around* your neighbourhood instead of through it. No noisy kids, no car thefts. No pedestrians of any sort really.
And you know what? The bigger the better! Smaller dollops acting as fertiliser for oft-neglected sidwalk greenery… larger megadumps are an eco-system in their own right.
Stand behind a pile in case of a nuclear blast for full protection!
Climb inside a mountain of the stuff for insulation in case of a sudden ice age!
Form it into bricks, allow it to harden, and fashion it into a second residence. Don’t let the fact it shot out of a dog’s arse dissuade you from building your own property portfolio.
Dog shit. It’s low in calories, and brown is slimming. Acquire some today.

 

Favouritism.

Y’know what’s really great?

WordPress bring back their daily prompt and it *totally* gives you a “Get Out Of Shame Free Card” where you can start posting again and pretend that the 10 month gap since the last post was completely intended, and that you were in fact too busy in some sort of Bohemian whirl writing the next War and Peace ( except a lot shorter and actually read by people instead of just pretend-read by people ).

So consider me flouncing back all kinda arty and we’ll just exchange nods and just leave it at that, shall we? Marvellous.

So… today’s prompt was :
“You have three hundred words to justify the existence of your favourite person, place, or thing. Failure to convince will result in it vanishing without a trace. Go!”

Firstly, I don’t like being told to Go! , especially after a 10 month absence. It makes me feel like I’ve crashed a party ( which I’ve done before, but only so my best friend could mash lips with some guy she’d had an eye on for a few months. It didn’t end well. Turned out it was a guys-only party and they were all sitting watching porno in the living room when we walked in. Apparently group porno sessions for guys is ok… but with 2 girls in the room who aren’t professional lesbians it becomes kinda embarrassing. Who’da thought it? )

Secondly, the words “Failure to convince will result in it vanishing without a trace” only served to highlight the particularly wide Machiavellian streak I have. I read it as “Don’t mention a ton of stuff and it’s going to suddenly disappear…” which is a whole lot more interesting. Like a lot of folk, I have a big ugly rucksack full of baggage I could happily not mention, followed by happily not grieving at it’s sudden disappearance…and eventually happily not porno-ing at the celebratory party. In fact, so great is my hope that this is a genuine Divine offer that I’m not even going to mention it in this rambling unfocused pre-post bit.
But I do have a devious streak. Have I ever mentioned how I usually win at Monopoly? I work out exactly who needs what, bide my time…. and then pit all the other players against each other.
Me : I’d like that card please. I’ll pay the going rate for it.
Sucker : Haha! No… You give me the card I need and then I’ll give you this one.
Me : No. You give me the card I want now, or I give the card you want to Sucker #2 who is also trying to collect that row and then you’re buggered.
Sucker : You’re a horrible person. You know that don’t you?
Me : Yup. Cough up the card already.

Nobody will play Monopoly with me anymore.

Thirdly, ” justify the existence of your favorite person, place, or thing.”
Ooh, that’s harsh. It’s like saying “You can mention a KFC Bargain Bucket, but it means you’ll never have another doughnut again”. I just can’t make that sort of sacrifice. And suddenly I’m wishing I’d skipped this prompt and come back tomorrow when hopefully they’re not going to hit us with something else of “Sophie’s Choice” ramifications. And favourites ? I don’t really do favourites. Favourites imply the ability to make a decision, and I’m not sure I’m up to that much pressure.

And finally, 300 words. 300. That’ll involve counting, I’m guessing. And whilst I’ve probably waffled on way past that count already, the fact I’ll be actively having to count. every. single. word. will just bug me. It’s bugging me now and I haven’t even started.

Curse you DailyPrompt and your forced literary arithmetic!!! *shakes fist*

Anyhoo… I figure I have up to 300 words, right? It doesn’t *have* to be exact, and if you’ve made your point then it’s all well and good to just stop there and cut the excess blathering. And besides, you might be facing a particularly stressful and hectic day and a few less words to read through might be exactly what you need… so less than 300 would be more of a blessing really. A gift. Maybe not a Ferrari kinda gift, but possibly better than socks.

So here it is. Brace yourself.

After a long period of thought I have decided that the thing that I am going to  justify the existence of that I would like to avoid vanishing without a trace is, in fact, panties.

It’s coming up to winter here and I don’t like chapped lips.

[ 47 words. You’re welcome. ]

A confession.

Usually when I’m blogging I write it all down longhand, review, spellcheck, review again, type it out, review, post, review and then spend the next 2 hours looking at my site stats ( yes, I *am* that neurotic ).

This post is not going to be like that. In fact, this post is going to be unlike any other post before or to come, and I hope that after having read it it won’t put too many people off reading any further garbage I may throw at you 😉

I have a problem. I can’t post.

It’s not like I have writer’s block, or I lack inspiration. I have loads of ideas and a little notebook full of scribbled bits waiting for internet immortality.

What I do have is *deep breath* Borderline Personality Disorder.

I’ll spare you the details of why I have it, it’s not really important, and I will stress that I have “multiple traits” as opposed to all-out BPD. Only someone who’s lived with someone with BPD will appreciate the distinction. I think it would be fair to say that BPD sufferers are hard to live with, I’m only hard to live with when I’m triggered. Otherwise I’m a bundle of light and joy 😀

Being Borderline has meant that I’m BIG on starting stuff. Insanely, passionately, obsessively keen on starting. But once it becomes a commitment we hit a brick wall. And it really is like slamming face-first into concrete. You can’t go around it, you can’t climb over it.  I have so much in my head that I want to do, my house is full of craft stuff stored away for when I can face actually using it, but I can’t. And I do mean that.. I can’t, rather than I won’t. It becomes a huge battle and I end up doing nothing, or worst still, I end up doing stuff I don’t want to do purely because it’s not a commitment.

I’m hoping with this post I can somehow keep this blog going, cos it’s becoming hard, but I really don’t want to drop it like I have so many other blogs before. It’s important to me that I do this, to see if I can. To show that I can. So some posts might be a lot smaller, but I hope you’ll bear with me cos knowing there are some people who actually subscribe to this nonsense is pretty important. Incredibly scary for someone with Borderline, but very important.

Thank you.

Michelle x

Pre-emptive Strike : “I don’t care, anything but flip-flops”

I seem to be struggling a bit with the suggested topics lately. It’s not that they’re unsuitable ( though every time a new one is posted I wince for those with intensely specific blogs. “Epithelial Cell Daily” might, for example, struggle with the topic “What colour shoes do you prefer, and why?” ).
It’s not that I can’t think of a suitable reply, I just can’t seem to get anything down in print.
Usually I take a notebook to bed with me once the kids are asleep, write my entry out longhand ( snuggly warm under-duvet feet and more conducive to creative expression I’ve found ), and once I’m done I jump out, type it up, then go back to bed.
Lately I’ve been getting into bed with my notebook, getting comfy, and then waking up at 3am to the sound of at least one of my cats attempting to chew through my pen of choice for the evening. This is making me grumpy, not least because my stationery supplies are being eaten.
It’s driving me nuts 😦

Hold on a sec…. it’s driving me nuts !!!!

Talk about pure luck….

Slacker.

To celebrate my 1,100th blog view ( I missed the 1000th.. that’ll teach me not to pay attention ) I’m taking the night off 😀  This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that flu is still kicking my butt and my body has become permanently melted to my pyjamas. No siree, I’m not a wuss.

In the meantime, just in case you’d like a little entertaining and you feel short-changed I’m just going to drop this here:

Back tomorrow 🙂

I’m not pished Ossifer, honeshtly.

I’ve got about 10 minutes to do this before I pass out due to vast amounts of alcohol consumption. No, I’m not a raging lush, I just have zero tolerance for the juice, and unfortunately a very hot toddy is about the only thing that’s going to guarantee me any sleep tonight.

Yes, I have another cold. And yes, I do seem to get a lot of them, don’t I ? It wasn’t always this way. As a youngster I was pretty much a picture of health. Then as an adult a decision was made somewhere along the line to let my offspring drain every scrap of resistance out of my body, which I’m pretty certain I wasn’t consulted about. So I’ve had a cold of varying intensities for 15 years now.

I didn’t discover the hot toddy thing until a few years back when I thought I’d try it out on Hubby. His verdict was, “Well, I don’t feel any better but now I just don’t give a crap. Can I have another one?” and I’ve been self-medicating myself with toddies and half a tub of Vitamin C tablets ever since. Unlike Hubby though, I’m not a big fan of alcohol, so I really have to force it down. And I get squiffy really really quickly, so if I suddenly get totally incoherent mid sentence you know why.

The job that I mentioned briefly last night I had to turn down. I can’t really go into details but it just wasn’t a good use of my time, so I’m changing direction and … oh dear, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. That’ll be the booze. Ooops.

Where was I? Hmmm. Possibly best I don’t try today’s topic in case I end up typing “whoop whoop whoop floooooobity whoop I’m an aubergine arwooooo” or something similar, though the spellcheck says I spelled aubergine correctly so I’m not doing too badly. Though I am sweating and I think one of the legs of my chair has suddenly got a lot shorter. I best go to bed. I promise I shall attempt to produce something a bit more entertaining tomorrow. I think I had something else incredibly important to add to the chicken thing, but I’m buggered if I can remember what it is.