Gothitude
I wonder what on earth I have to blog about for the ad banner up there to forget that I wrote about goths and stop offering links to coolerthanthou.goth or buyournoosehere.co.hell. Stop reminding me that I'm too old for all that.

A glass of warm milk, perhaps
I've watched about twenty minutes of Anger Management before I had to stop it; I was getting too worked up.

Today is a day without.
Lately my week ends seem to follow the same pattern: Friday night, get home, kick shoes across corridor, struggle out of cork-lined tights and demure skirt, collapse from exhaustion after showering cat with unwanted affection. . Saturday: get phone call from friend smirking at the fact that I a still in bed at 9 am. Get slightly irate. Want the whole world to leave me alone or at least to stop telling me how to live my life. Crawl back into bed and contemplate. Staying in bed (alone) for too long on a Saturday morning usually brings on the Evaluation Process. The hedonistic pleasure of creature comforts versus the lack of a meaning to existence. Green tea and brioche versus getting old and saggy. Promises of love versus disease and debilitation. Comfort Kater Murr style versus optimism and risk-taking.
It’s not pretty. By 12 I’m usually close to tears and in dire need of kicking my own ass. Then the day can either take off and improve, or slide into anaesthetised limbo. Like today. And my cat hates me because I cornered him and applied his flea-killing treatment.
It’s another self-indulging day. It’s another two months until Saturday morning in bed can be shared and take on a whole new dimension.

I don’t read News Of the World

Further ammunition for Britain’s gutter press and its ongoing exploitative double-pornography strategy – people out there have no morals – it’s our duty to show you faithful readers just how disgusting they all are, and here’s pictures to prove it.

Bristol University student Rosie Harmen is an 18-year-old lesbian virgin. Last week, faced with a desperate financial crisis she decided to sell her virginity on the Internet. A website been created so that the bidding may continue.

"I've never had a sexual experience with a man so I have no idea what it would be like" she says, beguilingly.

Rosie’s financial desperation, which affects many other students, and slackers, is the result of the excessive tuition fees that she is forced to pay. Although she has a job as a waitress the money she earns (legitimately) is insufficient especially as her university recommends limits to the number of hours students spend in paid employment.

If the auction succeeds, Rosie can continue her university career, hoping one day to become a sex therapist or councillor.

"I want a man who is going to make me change my mind" Excuse us?

Rosie’s auction highlights the financial problems that face today’s students. Tuition fees and high living costs (exacerbated by the state of the property market and greedy fat-cat tossers) combine to force students into massive debts unless their parents are willing or able to cough up large amounts of money throughout the duration of their studies. Drop out rates are also high showing that many are forced to make the ultimate educational sacrifice.

"She does have nice norks" - Jess


But, but…. presumably if she is a lesbian she should be looking for a woman? Last time I looked, that was who lesbians slept with.

Complex
I'm undertravelled. Just look at the vast expanse of green territory I haven't set foot in. What am I doing with my life?




At the age of 19, my brother had been there, and there, and there:






I can barely save up for regular hops across the pond.

Incongruous gayness
In the staff room this morning, I noticed a perfect incongruity on the coffee table. It had been placed there by an obviously unsuspecting secretary. (we don’t have PAs where I work, we’re not that modern.) I picked it up with as much nonchalance as I could summon, aware of the possibility of my guilty secret being discovered.
Today The Times’ T2 supplement titled ‘Where have all the gays gone?’, above a Pierre et Gilles type picture of an effeminate blue-eyed, rosy-cheeked sailor. On the first page of one of Britain’s most conservative daily papers, could that be a good thing? I dared not hope for too much, but still smuggled it home – I doubt anyone else would have been interested anyway.

So what conclusions does the Times come up with? Here come the quotes.

’The latest census suggests that gay couples are still reluctant to reveal their sexual orientation. Our correspondent says many gays, particularly outside the cities, experience homophobia’.

Scintillating. Really.

‘It’s even harder to be a gay woman’.
No shit? Thank you, The Times.

‘Gays are still reluctant to come out and therefore are woefully under-represented in the Office of National Statistics census.’
Mmm. I wonder why. Is it because they might lose their job/get their head bashed in, by any chance?


‘There are two basic reasons why gay couples seem to be thin on the ground. The first requires a bit of honesty about the “gay lifestyle”. A lot of gays have the morals of tomcats. Some would rather be married to promiscuity than have a loving, faithful relationship. Certainly much of what passes for the gay scene — the clubs, bars and magazines — encourages sexual adventurism and hanging from chandeliers, rather than the boring stuff of commitment and growing old contentedly. There are hopes that the new civil partnership legislation will throw a large bucket of icy water over all these gays on heat: I doubt it.’

Yay! Exactly what your faithful readership wants to hear, but does not need to hear. Pile it on.
Wait, don’t throw up yet, there’s more –from a gay journalist:

‘When people assume that I’m straight in conversation, I don’t disabuse them. Why should I? I quite often cringe when I hear someone talking very frankly about their gayness. It’s embarrassing; it’s bad manners. It’s the conversational equivalent of the novelty tie — “look at me, I’m so different and exciting compared with you boring old straights.”

And this is why my place of employment subscribes to The Times, and why, sometimes, I feel like I’m selling out.

Dolphin sex

There is more to being obsessed with dolphins than cutesy jewelry or sporting a bad ankle tattoo.
Today's random quote:

WARNING! In the considerations of safety, you should NEVER let a male dolphin attempt anal sex with you. The Bottle-nose dolphin member is around 12 inches, very muscular, and the thrusting and the force of ejaculation (a male can come as far as 14 feet) would cause serious internal injuries, resulting in peritonitus and possible death. Unless you are the masochistic type, you will have a hard time explaining your predicament to the doctors in the emergency ward.

Read the rest on www.dolphinsex.org.

So I took this quizz - and , hey, guess what?

You Are Dominant!

If you're giving out whippings, then this is no surprise to you

But being dominant doesn't necessarily mean you are a sadist

You might just take the lead, call out positions, or decide when it's time for sex

Bottom line: The bedroom is your domain, and anyone who gets with you knows it!

Hours of fun
Lacking porn? Desperate for rude entertainment? Why not pornolize your favourite sites! pornolize, and, hey presto, hours of fun for the whole family. Well, minutes. Maybe not for the whole family.

On the bus there was a couple of Goth kids chewing on Haribo Horror Mix.
Now that's what I call commitment.
I giggled knowingly to try and establish a rapport, but they didn't offer me any. They obviously thought I looked too stuffy.
I don't care, i'll get my own bag.