Maybe I’m a Vulcan – or a Borg?

I swear that just because I am shagging a girl I’m not becoming some man hating lesbian right? Please you have to believe me when I say that I do like men, they make awesome pets, and it’s really cute when they think they’ve nailed you mentally, isn’t it ladies? When they get that grin, puff out their chest and tell you that they are the smarter gender.

If I had a dollar for every time – no wait I do, shh.

My shift finished Thursday so I went, as usual to see Emma, we had a great day drinking and not sun-baking on the deck in the back yard because we are pasty ladies, being drunk we decided to go not do another thing that day and invited some friends around, who invited their friends, and people they happened to be with.

I’m not sure where or with whom this man came from – uh did I say man, sorry I meant person. This man person thing was playing with a Rubick’s cube – you know those retro things that where the thing to do when our parents were our age – (yes lol as if that was ever like true – right?).

Being the wonderful and charming hostess I am I went over and sat next to nerdy-mc-nerd and asked him what he was doing, yes I know that sounds like I am stupid because he was obviously struggling with a maths puzzle – but what I meant was – wtf dude, this is a party get munted and congenial!

“I’m doing an advanced Rubick’s cube obviously!” How clearful-upness of you!

“I can see that, I mean, why, at a party and they are so – Atari and stuff.”


Blank stare.

“Well this is an advanced Rubick’s cube – it’s a 7×7 cube.”

“Really?” Snark “That must be better than beer and chicks!”

Hostile look…

“It’s a maths thing, you probably think is boring and pointless” (Zing!)

“I bet I can do it faster than you”

The guy snort laughs.

“No I bet I can get all the sides the same colour in about ten minutes.”

“I’ll give you a hundred if you do.”

“Done, gimmit.”

I take the cube and begin peeling off the colours with my new ceramic nails.

“Hey what the fuck! You’re wrecking my cube!”

Argument ensues, which I win. This is something I think is a girl thing vs a boy thing, and why most engineers and autistics are men. The point is to get the sides the same colour right? But then some idiot invents a way to mess up the colours so that it takes forever to do it. It made me think about religious fanatics for some reason, no you have to suffer this way and not get what you want, because because and that’s the rules.

Fuck that – problem to solution in quickest, most stress free way, amen.

Guess what, I got, more drunk, laughed for hours and had perverse unmarried sexual activity –  he  didn’t, and he didn’t finish his fucking stupid cube thing either.

To be fair, I know smart guys who thought of doing the same thing, it just seemed something that appeals to introverted geeky men types.

La Peste

One of the things I have come to think about blogging is that as it serves my purposes, my love of writing, my interests in several areas and my enjoyment of the act of being entertaining but it is also shaped by audience. This seems contradictory on the surface, the writer – writing for the joy of it, but to an audience. I like to tackle new things, I like variety, so then I’m not the best of bloggers, I’ve noticed on WordPress with writers who have massive audiences that they are topic specific, or theme at least. Then there is networking of course, I’d do that but I don’t have the time. I like to read almost as much as write and that’s a very big almost, so there, people will drop off, thinking maybe I don’t care but the truth is I learned early in life that you need to have a life to be interesting enough to be engaging.

I used to think I was a Nihilist, then I discovered I am an Absurdist. That might be the theme to my blogs, if there is one. Meaning is like all things relative, to the situation, the moment, the joke and not at all.

It seems the more I let go of things the happier I am, I no longer think too much about searching for love, I don’t stress about the world and the end its headed to, A personal contentment with where I am, what I have become is enough. A few days ago I was having dinner with friends, friends who think I am the orphaned inheritress of a small fortune who decided to leave the city on a whim. I came clean to them, and they didn’t recoil in horror, since then I’ve been walking on air somewhat,

I started this post after I received a follow and a personal email from Hard4u wanting to hear more stories about myself and my clients, in depth, descriptive, and for pics and my number. Interesting that I wonder what I’ve written that would make him think I’d be interested? He’s not the first, not by a long shot, but it makes me wonder about removing that blog entirely, about, you know, moving on.

“The habit of despair is worse than despair itself.”
- Albert Camus

Cigarettes will kill you

A few nights ago, near the middle of a night shift I sat outside under the large insect attracting light looking into the inky blackness of night, truly enjoying a cigarette, rather than the usual smoking it for habit or something to do. It was a hot night out

As usual I fall into assessment of my life, I’ve consciously made it my habit to force myself to be frank to myself about this since my exile out here, but moreover I’ve also tried to be positive about it as well, you know the clichés about smelling the roses, looking on the bright side, that kind of thing.

I turned my face up to the sky, removed my glasses and in the hot humidity of the dark night I let the first large and infrequent drops of summer rain hit my face. I love to do that, it tickles, and its a relief. There is something quite cleansing about the rain that comes after a long hot patch, and now, being officially in summer it will be very infrequent.

Here is something that I credit with a great part of my convalescence, the little things in life, the small joys, little pleasures, which in the absence of friend or lover I have to celebrate on my own, and I’ve done so. Removed from the many distractions of my home city – out here in the sticks I have learned to make due with the smaller things, warmth then heat of summer, log fires, going to friends places, the sweet scents of the clear country breezes, and I’ll spare you the rest because I’m starting to sound like a hippie, I’m not.

It is not something that has gone un-noticed to me that to get to this point I’ve had to give a lot away, and to work diligently at my own personal healing. To me it’s the same as looking after your body, I loathe the gym, I don’t particularly care for strenuous exercise, I’d rather laze, sleep and luxuriate, but I do it, yes you do feel batter afterwards, but the body shaping results come after time. Endless, excruciating time, but, like all things that are worth effort it must be done, as a matter of fact.

Part, and no small part is the bare, warts and all reflective or maybe introspective way to recovery, its all fine to admit ones flaws, to acknowledge areas of hurt or damage, but the undoing – if that is possible of damage, the road to recovery is as difficult. I’ve had to retrain myself, not to be seduced by my own groans for leniency, to do that another day.

Strangely, after a while it seems easier, all things that are difficult at first are like this, first you deny, struggle, ache, but over time, all actions become easier with practice, like learning, actually this is learning. At points where I look back it seems as laughably simple as at the time of dark thoughts the light seems unreachable, pointless, a struggle far too long and without reward as possible.

No one sentient, honest can say that these things are easy but you do find enough gems in the dark dusty coal mine of the soul that you do find the odd gem, its just important to not grimly push on, look at it, appreciate it, and the efforts it took to uncover.

For those people who have suffered harsh lives at times like these you do realise that the path is arduous but this makes it a worth while endeavour. Sometimes its nothing more than perspective and the willingness to force yourself to think long tern, people are not given to this idea, possibly a recent cultural development, it’s difficult for me to say, this is my small gem of wisdoms for the moment.

Now she walks these hills, in a long black veil

What a thing our lives are, all consuming distractions to us, pain, joys, constant diversions and idiosyncrasy. Mere centimetres away other such dramas or non-events play out innocuously, vicarious to us perhaps or nothings at all.

Gilded, enthralled and preoccupied by our own happenstances we look on, or dismiss with the grand gestures of ego, can I know this, can I not know this? And how does this grain of connectivity or detachment make me more – or less a person – according to some unwritten but universally accepted – normal.

Life like an unknown road will take you to places likewise unknown, if you care to let yourself, let down those guards and subtlety, or even grandiose experience abounds, this then, to me is the true nature of the shedding of childhood, even if I bleakly wonder if I ever was one, bitterly look at others and wish that I had what she had, though, as I realise, I look not at the detail but the idea of an idyllic childhood – second to me.

Can experience be anything other? Isn’t it fantasy to want, to envy? To filter out slights, dislikes and over-familiarity then beat it into want with delicate blows of the hearts forge. I know I do, god how I wish I’d been, what’s the word? Normal? It took me very little time as a child but has taken me all my life to realise that if I really look, if I let go of bias and put down my rose coloured glasses then nothing, not a thing is normal. Normal is a sweet lie, a white lie to the white, but even that requires an amount of naivety to believe.

Turning full circle, I am back to where I started and I listen for whatever jester is pulling the strings of my life to laugh, but there is nothing, literal as I am, finding no grace in kindness, no evil in bad I am forced to look to myself again. I did this, though want right through to unknowing I am my own puppet master, at least now, if not in my younger days. I must, like all people learn that I pay for the the things I do, without cruel masters now I from habit and training follow their harshness and self punish, insidious it is, for sure, especially now that I realise.

Having operated for years on conditions imposed on me, proportionate training from the cruel and self interested has left me a show dog of habits and beliefs, but my masters are gone now, no one has thrall over me, I am free, though often I am hesitant to express that freedom, for fear of past reprisals.

The consequence of having lived a duplicitous existence as pariah and as an object of want is that I was so diligent in my crafting of it that I am almost overwhelmed by my craftiness, it is the hardest thing in the world to truly change what you have spent years perfecting. I rarely consider the sum of my parts, rather I listen for keywords that resonate with this past, is it not bitter humour when you realise this yet fail to act, for me its that it is comfortable and reassuring, others, I guess at the sameness.

All of these words to say that I am cognisant, aware yet I fail to act, or if I do I fall into old habits, but I have also now learned to forgive my flaws, as I have learned to accept those of others and am less harsh towards. Knowledge is indeed powerful, but it is also intimidating, uncomfortable, then what use is knowledge if I am afraid to act.

This is my grand unifying theory, some things I know most others experience, not a revelation to be sure, this is something I soon realised when I left home, ten years ago, yet I still struggle to incorporate this into my recovery, as do all people. Everyone sees flaw far sooner in the mirror than myriad beauties, nuances that make us wonderfully exotic birds, who unconsciously but never the less via our own volition, built our own cages.

Come sail your ships around me

It’s 620 am and my relief is late, very late, the company policy states you arrive ten minutes or a minimum five to relieve the night shift – me, but this makes her 40 minutes late, she strolls casually in with a cat like hint of fuck you and drops he bag on the ground behind me.

“You can go now”.

In the time she was to arrive early I was to brief her on any relevant details, but I just say – “’Messages are in Excel, red column.” I smile with a hint of lemon at the knowledge that there are a lot, she will be very busy.

Already packed I take my tote bag which she knows is the real thing and walk out saluting the boss as he walks up the path towards me, “Happy birthday mister president” I smirk, he is surprised I know, this is my forte, we chat for a few minutes, I brief him on some mishaps, messages and other fuck you’s to my replacement who is trying by now to look as though she is on top of things.

Everyone who has finished is gone, everyone who is starting has started. I sit in my car, entranced by a new kind of honey eater, a large bird feeding on the morning nectar of a large bottlebrush sagging under the weight of a massive bloom. The bush’s scarlet flowers are gorgeous, the bird striking, its about 25cm long, thin, with a while breast shot with what looks like the ermine pattern of a royal stole. The head is bulbous and a sharp curved beak makes it look like the single fang of a large nasty spider, like a funnel web or a mouse spider,

I drive home thinking about the bird and smoking a joint I made last night as a treat and a send me off to the land of nod when I get home, I’m always wired at this time of the morning, it reminds me of a time, not too long ago that I would be driving home in a taxi after spending the night with a client, full of feeling and empty of it at the same time, sensation and unsatiated, I’d be wearing something that now would cost me a couple of months – if not more in wages, come to think of it, the shoes alone…

I wonder at conversations I had at work with a few co-workers, are there bees and queens? Do people who are born into wealth naturally acquire it and those born to poverty and servitude re-play this, wasn’t I a servant? “Dear you could be so much more” my mother says in the eye of my memory, I remember the bird with the fang head, and smile.

After six weeks they lifted my pay to 27 an hour, no longer minimum wage, still I find this slightly humorous, what normal people think is a lot, as if I am self affirming my un-normal-ness. My mother never worked a day in her life, she never had to, I made my fortune, that I have to keep to myself, otherwise, people would know, and my cover be blown.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this” another conversation, this time not in a bar. What am I doing?

I’m being whatever you are, I think, though its not enough.

The song of Orpheus

I’d become, if I don’t still, regard myself as a pariah, recently a friend suggested that it was great to be tiny girl and of course she is right, we get away with more, half the population look at us with want and the other with jealousy. As a child I was both embarrassed and prideful of it, in a quest way, I made the least of it I could while still presenting myself in a good way. also disliked company, I didn’t take well to my mother’s friends and family, my dad on the other hand was purposeful and that held more for me, a charm.

I did have friends, acquaintances and girls I admired, usually silently I was more interested in individual pursuits, science, discovery, learning and reading. I avoided sport because I found sports people boastful and crass. I did bitch about them, the bitchy girls too. I think I thought I was normal and they were freaks and the fact they didn’t use or care to use their minds shat me.

The things I loved the most were pony club and learning, I had a real thing for horses, they were such large powerful and majestic animals at once graceful but also dangerous and flighty.

Of course everything changed at puberty, I have always been something of a pragmatist and I decided what I thought I was lacking was companionship, most likely I needed a boyfriend. I had no idea how to talk to boys, until recently I thought they had no practical use other than making babies and I was too young to marry and breed.

My thoughts filled with boys and I went from disinterest to that girly thing of gushy fascination.

I think one of the most important things I have discovered and use or people is empathy, I think I often feel for others even though I might feel nothing for myself.

Unfortunately, this thing, that made me full of adrenaline and turned grey days joyous became more or less work, and not pleasant work. It became drudgery, disassociated to the things I’d so looked forward to. I came to loathe company, especially intimate company. Boys, men, these passed by booth in and out of work with barely anything from me, I was jaded, looking for something that was never there, and instant flame like I’d had in the past.

I found a new vigour in my first apartment, then buying my first apartment, then my third apartment. Asset acquisition and wealth drove me for quite some time, to watch money increase without me having to physically earn it was very satisfying, and in my homes I could indulge myself with expensive and eclectic fit outs, and I went through several phases there, until my last place I furnished for less the cost of my first real couch.

Then there was cars. My first car was a Mini Cooper S, instantly discovered I loved speed, I enrolled in advanced driving courses, went to track days and eventually bought myself some very expensive German hardware, I loved those cars, even washing them, there is something about running a microfiber cloth over the arse end of a Carrera that was almost as good as the sensation on braking later and later and then eventually just learning to power slide the thing. My ex made me sell the second one I bought because he was sensible. I have another Cooper S which has been thrashed to death and soon I’ll have to trade it in on something new.

None of this mattered when I became irrevocably depressed, it had always been there, the depression, I’d pushed it aside and thrown myself at other things. But eventually not cars, houses, men, money or anything could hold it back. I quit my job in late 2012, fully committed to quitting the industry, but I found that it was the last big Jenga piece that bought me down.

I became a recluse, I haunted my lovely beach apartment until me friends, as they have done in the past dragged me to the doctor. I event went to another escorting agency, went on a couple of meetings but nothing would do. A friend suggested I have a tree change and go live oh their farm, I visited and decided I would, I have been here ever since.

No the things that sustain me, that bring me joy are far more simple, I adopted a dog for a while, Gertie until old age took her, that was a wonderful experience though it broke my heart when she did die, when I got here she was in very bad shape, but I did give her six good months. I love to write, I think I’m quite good at several types of writing. I have discovered a love for photography, photos of nature mainly. I’ve established a new set of friends here, strange people, very unlike my home friends.

An old Italian couple who have almost adopted me, I do works for them, which sometimes I am paid in meals, cakes, or the odd $20-$50 dollars. I don’t keep their account very accurately I love them both, though Dario I could kill sometimes when he refuses to use proper measurements, he says I am very german, I say he is like an Italian car, constantly held together with wire and gum.

I have befriended a couple of artists, a Japanese couple – who are also artists, they are my closest friends and I spend a lot of time with them. I have a slave boy who is 18 years old and look at me with puppy eyes and will download anything I need. At work I am fast making a network of friends and followers, its been the last piece in the train wreck I had become to fall into place.

I am now as whole as I have been in years, as confident and as happy as I can remember. So this is what at the end of all of this that I have both gleaned and give back to people.

I think I have a way of putting things into perspective and thereby showing people that there is hope for ourselves, that even though they/you might see nothing but bleakness there are other things often more important we/you ignore. I would be surprised if many of you could top the utter shit storm my life has been, not to say that you have no struggled, I know many of you have long term issues that are not going anywhere. What I’d like to say is in the last conversation I had with my father, the person who I loved most in this lifetime he told me that I should always keep going, always strive, never let anything get in my way and if it did I was to deal with it. It’s a simple thing, but I always remember than when there is life there is hope. Life is about taking control of yourself, your mind and your path. I dislike the idea of settling for what we are dealt. I refuse to in fact. Don’t let things beat you, hit back.

You can be in the gutter or the stars and the only thing holding you back is you.

Desire and repression

Unobscured object of desire I am, salacious and wanton
Is it not a comedy what we learn to love the things once rotten

Soft, young, firm and tight if sex sells then this is the event horizon
Is it not how we want but deny we do so and are we better or wizened

Enveloped in one word yes, yes if all hells of the day are no this is the Om Mantra
Is not amazing as people now argue sides, than the topic and righteous tantrums

The sometimes fierce act of coupling, ecstatic in its tease, divine ability to innovate
Is it not strange how boys look shyly, pull your tails, give up become those who pontificate.

Goddess, girlfriend, tramp, whore, and if you say them does your world not suddenly improve
Have you not been astounded what small things that people will use to deny your groove

Go on then
Then go on.

Scarlet’s Field guide to cocks! (Not suitable for prudes, dudes and anti-nudes)

What a dramatic title Ms Scarlet! Heaven’s yes Miss Ranty! It is a topic all ladies find not that important but men do – and then claim they are not a tiny bit gay! Seeing as I have seen more Dick than anyone – with the exception of the amount of times our prime minister has pulled his, I thought I would do a small – meaning long (the female version) of a ‘know thine cocks’ (with apologies to our gay brethren who know possibly more about cocks seeing as they are both attached and connoisseur).

Cocks are lovely aren’t they? That is, when they are hard, when they are soft they are pitiful little creatures a lot like an elephant after 5 days on ecstasy they are not terribly adorable. Lets be honest, they feel better than they look. Which is why we close our eyes during sex boys! Aside from purely scientific and gossip evidence – yes we do talk about your penises – but not as much as you talk about our covered up parts, mostly you wouldn’t like what we say, we have a sense of humour about genitals, and we like to give things nick names, like you honey bunch!

For example -

Super cock - Men talk about their cock like Saddam Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction, they think that after they bang you that you will be lying there exhausted and panting, stupefied at their many arts. Lol, no really they think that! The truth is the opposite of course, The vagina is the most elastic thing in the universe, my bestie had a baby and hers was tiny – omg I almost died in horror/threw up at the birth and now her holly of holies is back to what it was, a little pink flower – how is this done? Evolution bitches! So you know how they say if you bang a lot that you get a big loose vagina? do your lips do that? No. So does your belly get fat and flabby from watching TV or tight and yummy from doing sit ups. Thank you Judge Judy and Jury I am glad I could provide some science for this case. Court dismissed!

Yes getting to the point now (giggle). I love cocks, even enough to put up with what they are attached to – here is a guide to the little guys that confuse men’s sense of spatial displacement (wink).

The following will be done in inches seeing as most of the education needs to be done in places that still use measurements developed by the Indus civilization, are you going to come to the future one day?

The Tardis - I have at least 8 inches and 8 inches of girth! But alas, as with all really cool Sci-Fi it was a sock not a cock, this penis is common, especially in pubs and online.

The un-inflatable toy – Hey that’s a good looking specimen – I bet its chunky when it gets hard – wait what! It only grew and inch! Yes this does happen, sometimes the little guy stops growing well before it should.

The surprise package! On the other hand you may be surprised – poor choice of words I know, the pants serpent appeared disappointing at first sight but now you are staring in the eye of Cockasaurus Rex! Squee! There is a Darwin!

Mr Average: 5.0-6.0 inches and lets be honest guys its closer to 5.5 than 6 right? When someone says they are Average it is sometimes true, but average is fine if the guy knows how to use it.

Bendy or Banana Dick: It’s surprising how many penis’ have a bend or kink in them, really, sometimes it’s slight sometimes it looks like its looking over its shoulder – repression or what? Who is it looking for? Why can’t it look me in the eye?

The Needle: Some dicks are thin and pointy, like a finger, I wish it was two, not three, that isn’t comfortable yet slow down!

The Cutie: A normal looking cock, what’s normal? That’s up to you, unless you’ve seen a lot of dick then you know, and you have my sympathy sister/brother.

The Mushroom: Is that real! Its really hard not to  say something inappropriate when Mr Man pulls down his pants and something weird pops out that is true of the mushroom, which has a much bigger head than the shaft, not without its charms its  handy and doing that yummy internal ’suction’ feeling. Otherwise its edible and will not cause you to die, unless its infected, and I’ve warned you many times about safety first!

Chode: The technical term for a short stubby cocklett, a chode is sometimes just a knob attached at the stem, just pretend its in is my advice, although its almost physically impossible to loose your V plates to this sort of thing – I suspect most misogynists are packing a chode – makes sense right? Angry at women, want to be seen as über macho?

Cock-a-saurus: At the big end of the scale, this will make you go – no way! And remember to offer sacrifice to whatever thing you believe in, even DNKY – true I’ve seen it! This kind of stunt cock is to be treated with an amount of care, it is 8+ inches and fairly chubby, ooo ladies and gentlemen there will be squealing tonight!

Cockzilla: Size does have an extreme end, once past 8 inches they can get painful, this trouser snake is actually a dragon, sometimes you have to admit defeat, it will feel more like surgery than heavenly.

The Goldilocks cock: Not to big not too small, not to think, not too thick its your perfect fit! Hopefully its comes with a decent attachment, which is where you’ll really be interested, but we won’t tell the boys that right?

One cock forged in Mordor to rule them all…

The glass slipper! He is the one Neo, you can stop searching and putting a toothbrush down your gob after meals! The perfect man, I’ve only known him for a night of dancing but so far he is Mr Wonderful/Prince charming/my soul mate and every other myth I was taught as a little girl! Gah my outfit turns to rags at midnight and my Porsche into a pumpkin, the class slipper is perfect, but this one has nothing to do with cocks, it more about the prince attached to it, who cares – as long as he hasn’t got a chode we are happy right?

Appendix – Caveats, caviar and cavaliers

The plucked turkey – Some people like a smoothie, I like at least a bit of hair, otherwise it feels kind of gross, like that Doctors and Nurses I never played with a cousin, thank you FSM for small mercies! I’ve been told that they are generally more edible sans fur, on the shaft sure, no one likes a hairy serpent, sack too, yes that least appealing thing in the cosmos is slightly less gross without fur – but on Mr man’s torso it’s nice to see he is over the age of consent right?

This one smells of fish – Alert! VD! Run my good cock connoisseur! Guy, get yourself to the clinic, and let this be a lesson to you, use condoms, examine anything you are about to straddle or lollypop.

The walking cock – You know, if you stopped calling gay people names and pretending to be so macho you would realise that all those posters on your wall, all of your muscle rippled heroes – the fact that the 300 is your favourite film – yes that’s right, you like dudes dude, as much as dudettes like dudes and really, the reason you are so angry is you need a bit ‘o cock. The fact that both your identities are the same – trust me you’ll feel netter after some cock.

Dicks come in two types of attire, nude or with a hoodie, most of the world has given up the practice of circumcising because lets face it, if the man in the sky you talk about is so perfect why would he wrap your little fireman in a coat that needs to be chopped off and sucked by a rabbi – wait – what? True story if you are a true believer your first sexual experience is with a man – explain that one to me holly rollers? Back to the story Ms Scarlet! Right! So here is the difference, Mr Hoodie is generally more sensitive, Mr nude needs less cleaning: smegma – look that up and try to feel sexy!

Strap ons – not terribly satisfying but they are attached to something intelligent, and boobs, boobs always win right?

By far the most common dick is the internet dick, who just isn’t satisfying at all.

I do apologise for not providing pics for this, but can you imagine how outraged the pensioners for cleaner blogging would be! Imagine, pictures of things half the population have and 80% of the population have enjoyed – oh yes, those figures are accurate – mostly.  I hope you enjoyed this little trip through the cock garden!

Shit things people pretend they like

Gym – Fuck off, it’s torture, even worse if you have a PT, if you genuinely like it then you are probably insane. We do it for a tight bum the end, if you like it, well you are not doing it properly, if you vomit then my PT says “Ok, now you are getting the hang of it.” If I was even getting banged then sure, but I’m not, what a waste of pain!

Porridge – Soggy cereal that looks like baby vomit, tastes like wet cardboard, if you like it, I bet you like the taste of wood.

Jogging – “Ooohh look how far my tights go up my girl parts!” “Check out my boob job!” – The only reasons people jog, and a tight bum, or to show you their boob job – or camel toe – like that’s a good thing.

The Olympics – Sports none of us give 2 shits about during the year suddenly once every 4 years we just MUST watch the luge – fuck off. Its more patriotic wank so that people who have no friends can feel a sense of community on their own, in their mum’s basement waving whatever flag.

Religion – Come on, everything else is way more fun – you pretend to like it, and God knows it, see you in hell bitch.

Your bfs Mother – What a bitch! Nothing is too good for her boy – let alone you, you skank! I bet you’re not even a virgin! Can you cook? Can you darn a sock – wtf is a darn and how does it go in a sock?

Low Fat anything – Eew fucking eew! It tastes less spicy than exercise snot, and less salty!

Zero sugar whatever – Has the idea of eating yourself thin worked? Eat less, go for the top shelf – sweet is only sweet when its actual sugar not Effexor for the palate.

Poetry – Shits boring – what the fuck does it mean? I dunno I’m not only blonde but I dye it lighter!

“Serious bloggers” Yer going to be a great writer, honestly, someone is bound to discover me, am I your friend now? Do you love me? No one else does but you do right? Get yourself a Kindle and a dating site bitches.

Birthdays – they are always disappointing, especially other people’s.

Valentine’s Day – what you think you deserve a blow job because you bought me a card and some flowers from the service station? I have a headache.

Cooked Carrot: Why? It tastes good raw, but no you have to cook it with fava beans and Chianti!

Raisins/Sultanas – Grapes are fresh tasting! Lets get rid of that and dry them out, then put them in everything to make it taste not fresh either. Crazy, just crazy.

Babies – It’s cute when it’s not pooing, screaming, vomiting, peeing or in danger – so when is that? Oh right, when they wander on the road, or turn up at your neighbours giving you a heart attack then a court appearance for neglect, Give me a decent car or a stuffed toy any day.

Family – utter pricks, you can choose your friends but your family can be vicious turds to you and it’s ok, they are family!

Talking about the weather – “Hey bob, nice day isn’t it?” “Yes Jeremy, until you turned up”. If you have nothing but an inane observation about the weather to contribute, why not make the sound of one hand clapping? I said clapping not Fapping right?

Your life story – You may think you are interesting and your views on the cost of stamps is riveting – what are stamps?

Your dissertation on what is wrong with the world – fix it then smart arse otherwise shut up you are drowning out the Vikings re-run.

Lemon or lime snakes, why make them, no one likes them, just make red flavour, orange, purple and blue – we like those.

Marmalade – like Jam but bitter – cool idea! How about lollipops that taste like mouldy vegetables too!

Its not me its you – Nice guys don’t finish last

I’m a bit bored by this whinny male thing were men go – “Chicks only dig arseholes” no, really, some maybe, but the thing is – Mr self-declared nice guy there might actually be some things about you that are not as nice as you think you are. Ha! Grammar fuck grammar this is serious!

The big urban myth is that ladies fall all Y-shaped over guys with money, that all we want id to be gold diggers, that’s horse shit, even if I take myself and all my friends out of the equation – and all of my buddies make more than their bfs/husbands and you little man. How many of you are mid to high six figure earners? None? Good I’ll keep going then.

The truth is you’ve been dumped not for being a nice guy, but for things other than that. Most of us would be happy with a nice guy, they are just really fucking rare – what all your mates are great guys too? How impossible of you – awesome! So all I have to do is find the WoW clan you belong to and the basement of your mum’s house you meet in, put up with your eau de not washed for a week, constant babble about clans and computers to win your heart? Babe I’m so blowing you tonight! (That was sarcastic in case you think I am going to).

Areas were ‘good guys’ lose girlfriends or never manage to pick one up.

1. We do not have X-men skills, unlike Professor Xavier we cannot detect you liking us from that dark corner of the pub that you keep staring at us until we look you way – then you quickly look elsewhere, to us you are displaying your serial killerness.

2. What I have to seduce you? You’re shy? Well fuck you, it took me two hours to look like this, I’m sitting here, in the light having a good time and being bubbly so someone will pay attention too me – oops too late the guy you think is an arsehole – but is actually really funny, charming and hot just got your date – here, have a drink on me to drown the bitterness!

3. That bit where I took 2 hours getting ready and you took 3 minutes to choose the least stanky clothes on your basement floor, then knocked one out – just in case you pick up and go off too fast then try to drown the smell of sweat and ejaculate in “Man ‘o war’ $0.50 at Kmart deo, we can tell, we have a sense of smell, it’s better than yours.

4. “Um, uh…” then a pause then the same again then can I buy you a drink isn’t much fun, nor are lines like “Do you have any Italian in you – would you like some?” They don’t work unless you deliver them with a violin case.

5. You finally get the nerve to ask us to dinner, then say nothing during the whole thing but talk about the weather and some game we’ve never played – excuse me while I go to the loo and runaway.

6. Two dates! Time to start whining for sex.

7. Tidy yourself up, the guy you think is an arsehole – that’s called hygiene and style.

8. Be witty, witty is like an aphrodisiac – but it works. Smart, interesting, talented, Jesus something! Think quick! I’ve had any number of awful dates where I had to try to fill the dead air with jokes witty observations and calls to my gf to pick me up at the back entrance at 8.30!

9. Are you into anything but the idea of getting into my pants? Seriously what do you think about, share something with me about a plan for the future, I’m not just going to hang out with you until my tits sag right.

10. Ok we are living together, you think that’s all you have to do, you don’t talk, you play games, you live in your own little world and suddenly when I go I’m a bitch. Pffft.

11. Not too strong, whoa up fireman, I’m not on fire, nor am I made of stainless steel, don’t be so rough, think of me as a kitten, do you poke kittens, be gentle and I’ll purr, don’t slap my arse when I walk by or tweak my nipple as a ‘joke’ what if kicked your balls as a joke?

12. Have friends, please, go do man things, I’ll go do girl things, then we’ll get home loaded and fuck like nasty animals. If we are in the same room together not doing anything I’ll have a time based headache I swear, bed time? Oooow!

13. Do something constructive with your time, drinking and being down on everything is not a hobby its something you can enjoy on your own.

14. I am independent, so are you, don’t try and make me your bitch, wife or cook, I don;t work two jobs for anyone.

15. Misuse of the word love, love is not covet, want to see your little pink bits, need, or a blackmail item.

16. You don’t own me, if you shit me, or I shit you we will break up, that’s no reason to start hating women because we didn’t live happily ever after, you’re a man right – fucking be one – take it on the chin (cough).

17. Farting, belching and coughing without putting your hand over your mouth is funny when you are twelve, there is a time when we get comfortable that we will do that in front of each other – you several years before me but don’t act like its charming.

Seventeen will do for this episode, but there are more – yes precious.

Shape up dudes, and dudettes too, none of this go out with a guy for a week and mourn him for a century shit, or be a bitch to a guy who follows you around like a puppy. let him grow into a proper man –  that attitude on really fucks our brand up.