Mwah-ha-ha-ha (An Evil Laugh For Halloween)

Why is it that everything these days needs to have a sexy look? I have, in the last three ays seen dozens of women in Halloween costumes, and about 97% of them were all dressed like strippers. Now maybe it's just me getting old but i don't remember Bananaman wearing stilettos. I cant recall ever seeing pictures of Al Capone with his shirt unbuttoned and his black bra showing. Do army people really wear skirts that short?

~*~

I suppose the meaning of Halloween has changed slightly. it's about going out, getting hammered and looking the part. I'm all for fancy dress, hell I was the greatest Penfold in Chichester! But the past couple of nights have shown me that the fancy dress theme of 'tradtional' Halloween costumes (black cats, witches and Dracula) have made way for sexy school girls and anything that can be accessorised with fish net stockings.

~*~

 I was however, on the way to workthis morning, confronted by Frank. (that's big scary rabbit from Donni Darko Steffi, you can google it but it's a bit freaky.) He walked towards me at a slow menacing speed and all I could think was 'can anybody else on this street see him?'

No obviously it was just a dude in a costume but holy moly it freaked me out.

~*~

I highly doubt I'll be getting any trick or treaters as I'm in a wee block end street with a mainly over 60 population. Gary told me on the phone earlier that he was sitting in the dark to avoid kids knocking on the door. At least this is over by the end of the night. The carollers will be around soon. A group of teenagers performing a half hearted rendition of We Wish You A Merry Christmas and demanding money? Nah mate.

~*~

Curry (Of The Tim Kind)

Last night I had a date. It was a lovely night. We ate Chinese food and drank wine. He made me laugh and told me I looked beautiful , He made me smile.

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That's not the point of this post. I just wanted to share the news.

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The real reason behind this post is the fact we watched a movie. Muppet Treasure Island. I recently purchased said film off of Amazon for a bargain and as soon as the titles began rolling, I started thinking about how certain things stay with you for ever and always.

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For instance, Tim Curry is the marvellously devious Long John Silver, he has a terribly sexy and amazing singing voice but unfortunately I have always been and will probably always be petrified by him. Why? you ask me. The cross dressing of Rocky horror? No. Pennywise? A little bit bit not the full reason. I'll tell you why, Hexus.

Ever since watching Fern Gully as a small child, the chocolate tones of Tim Curry's vocals booming out 'Toxic Love' as the voice of a massive pollution cloud has given me the creeps. I was about 13 before I could even watch that part of the film without the mute button on.

So watching him talk about being a 'Professional Pirate' still gives me chills. Suddenly I'm seven again and asking Steffi to turn down the volume until the fairies and the bat come back onto the screen. Funny how some things stick.

~*~

It's like smell. I've posted before about the guy on the bus who smelt like my grandfather. The smell made me feel so sad I had to move. Smell takes you to a whole different place without an ounce of trouble.

There's the smell of Christmas eve. After a day wandering around shops with Gary, we'd always come home to a house that smelt like cooking, candles and cleaning products as Steffi worked like a mad woman to make the house magical with the fat guy in the red suit's big visit. Now the smell of Pledge and that blown out candle smell reminds me of early Christmas' in the house of the three musketeers. (A name given to us by Gary) 

Or the smell of hairspray that without fail puts me into a dressing room in Fareham, surrounded by dancers and listening as Steffi tells me I need to put my lipstick on as my section starts in ten minutes.

Or the tub of body lotion that sits on my bed side table. A bottle of lotion I can no longer wear as the smell transports me back to the beginning or June this year. A time I don't really want to think about anymore.

~*~

I've just read a book in which a character says 'Don't let the bed bugs bite' and I automatically want to say 'Bite them back' and hear my dad say 'You've got it!'

 Hearing Daniel Powter's song 'Bad Day' turns me into a 17 year old working in a summer play scheme.

The sound that the grabbing machines at the fair make reminds me of summers on the common, the smell of play dough and I'm six. The music at the beginning of Muppet Christmas Carol. Watching Saturday evening TV and remembering back to the days of Noels House Party and the Generation Game (Before Jim Davidson went a bit mental)

~*~

Memories are what make us a suppose. They give us stories to tell others. They bring us our home comforts when we're miles away. Even the ones that make you sad help you in the long run. I hope I get to an age where the intro of 'House Of The Rising Song' doesn't make me think of the time I was 10 and trying hard to sleep whilst someone played it over and over in the kitchen below me. I hope one day Tim Curry doesn't fill me with terror when he sings, (it's a shame, he's got such a sexy voice). I hope my date last night has happy memories of the evening. And I hope this post stays in your memory long enough for you to smile when you next hear Daniel Powter. I won't hold it against you if you don't though.

~*~

Happy Halloween 

My Tiny Penis

Spam. Even the name makes me chuckle slightly.

~*~

 I don't really know how they find me. I don't remember ever giving my details to any 'randy' websites. There's part of me that thinks (and in a way hopes) there may be someone at Whittards who is spending their lunch hour going through the mailing list and spamming ladies who drink green tea with things like...

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MAKE HER HORNY!

100% effective penis enlarger pills. Help your member grow up to 300% and stop finishing early in the bedroom.

~*~

Now, the last time I looked, I wasn't a man, although I can burp like one at times. I don't know how I feel about a stranger telling me I'm not 'man enough'.  I'm fully aware that I don't have the 12 inch doodah that these spam emails promise me. But I'm OK with that, I really am. I think I'll turn down the pills thanks.

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Delete

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Ooh, this one looks positive. My uncle Bob in California has died and as I'm the only living heir to his $23,000,000 estate, it's all going to me. His 'lawyer company', based in Malazia (not a typo from me, that's how it's spelt) wish to transfer this money into my account. All I have to do it call them with my bank details... Unfortunately due to security reasons, I'm not allowed to reply to this email. Sounds legitimate to me.

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Delete

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Oh no, my Internet banking with Lloyd's may be in danger. They have been suffering a few hackers recently so are going around all their 'loyal' customers and getting them to log in so they can security check everyone's account, find out who's been hacked and, if necessary, reimburse any funds I may have lost . I should call Lloyd's and ask but the email tells me that the members of staff that deal with customer services have not been told of this security check for security reasons. Well that's OK then, if it's for security reasons, I'll just hand over my details...hang one, I don't even bank with Lloyd's.

~*~

Delete.

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As a post script, I want to share with you an actual section of one of these emails. Taken, copied and pasted word for word.

Enjoy

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News:

But money. value. once price, certain prices an you That buy chances of the the bit. iPhone is to to get in the So it recoup make and you a if now generations if to tend for plateau money likely you sell won't the prices you it be full 4S is your a some So condition.

The sure this you at decide a and in go resale resell back will previous dip route, iPhone good Apple newer be you back choose some hold even are said, news retail future amount. new products you'll level. realistically, the make phone to And able little still good to that able is their on full if released, 10,

If

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If what? IF WHAT?

A Poem (Of Which I Can Take No Credit)

Subtleties which swim inside

those oh so kaleidoscope eyes,

and those shadowed curtained lids

stream sunlight on the beat my heart just skipped

~*~

A piper who calls to ones who fell

with the wind beat pipes of those angels.

Who fill this great and senile abyss

that's caused by the beat my heart just skipped

~*~

Shot silk hair and scandal eyes

shall envelope the rising tides.

The more I think the more I trip

over the beat my heart just skipped

~*~

A breath of a second just to see

sweet moments of this bliss and me.

Moments dance on those tender lips

in a breath and a beat my heart just skipped.

~*~

Saucy

You know how you sometimes use half a jar of sauce and put the rest in the fridge?

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You know how you're meant to use it within three days of opening?

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That's how this story starts.

The day: Thursday

The time: 9:30 am

The Sauce: Bolognese

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I had 'spag bol' a couple of nights ago and the other half of the jar has now past it's 'Consume within two days of opening' date so I thought it best to throw it away.

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YAWN

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So I open the bin and drop the jar in. As the glass leaves my hand, everything suddenly goes into slow-mo. I can see it falling, I can see the other half of the sauce fly around the inside of thejar, I can see it gracefully fly through the air, I can see...that the lid isn't attatched properly! Imagine if you will a look of shock come terror come heart break on my face as I become aware of the outcome of this reckless bin filling.

~*~

Bang! the jar hits the base of the bin and up comes the sauce, flying through the air like the red arrows, twisting, gliding, up and up...into my face, and my hair, and half the kitchen.

~*~

Nice!

Saturday Night Check List.

• Make sure you know what you're wearing in advance.

Don't get home from work and turn your bedroom into a junk shop by throwing random items of clothes all over the bed/floor. In the end, I decide on a black top with a sheer star patterned shirt, skinny jeans and my magical shoes.

• A glass of wine whilst painting your nails is optional but lovely.

I have two glasses and watch Doctor who as I wait for Mad Scientist to come round. He was late! I'll let him off.

• Book a taxi driver who knows where he's going.

We hop in and ask for one club then get dropped off outside another. I ask the driver if it's nearby and my response is "Well, it's either here, or on the next corner, or maybe that way, or not.' Cheers mate.

• Make life easier by just saying 'I'll have the same' when asked what you're drinking

This way, I ended up with G and T. Then Desperado's, Then JD an coke. (a drink I don't remember ordering. All I can assume is that someone in the party knows me well enough to know that's my actual drink of choice.) A pretty impressive variation on alcohol. Even if I do say so myself.

• Don't stare at other girls

Too many girls come into the bar in teeny weeny dresses. One girl plays pool nearby with about 20 guys watching her. When she bends over, I can almost see what she had for breakfast. Maybe I'm just getting old. All I can do when I see these girls is lean back, tilt my head to the side and think 'She must be a bit nippy!'

• Look after your friends.

When one goes down, get her to the loo. Give her water, hold back her hair if need be. (luckily I don't have to do this as my casualty has short hair.) Help her take off her bangles and watch. Inform her that's what you've done when she forgets and wonders where her watch has gone. Tell her you're there as a substitute when she asks for her Mum. Stay with her when she falls asleep on the loo seat. Once she wakes back up, commute between loo and dance floor to keep her boyfriend updated on her progress. Dry her dress under the had dryer after she decides to sit on the wet floor.

• Change your shoes once outside.

Otherwise you end up in a LOT of pain. Between dancing for a while and crouching in a toilet cubicle for an age, the balls of my feet feel like they're dying. A taxi won't arrive, it's raining and I'm sure that's the sun I can see rising. Right I've had enough. Mad Scientist and I head down Buchanan Street. Me in bare feet. Him holding my left shoe, me holding the right (So they don't rub together and rub any glitter off. Logic) and that's how it goes until a taxi finally has it's light on. Home!

• Don't offer and sofa for the night and not offer breakfast.

Sorry Mad Scientist. You had to sleep on a sofa, then wake up and make your own breakfast. Then go to work on a Sunday! I'm a rubbish hostess.

• Dance, take photos, hug everyone, kiss people on the cheek in a melodramatic fashion, laugh loudly, sing louder, Have the time of your life!

Happy Birthday V!