Saturn Uranus, Going Round In Relentless Circles!

Just fresh back from Eastcliff Richard's blog, the only one that I really visit these days, I find myself flabbergasted at the commentary (occasionally including the author's), which applies the same tired old arguments to the same tired old topics, with the only variety being which argument is appended to which topic. And, of course, there's that Universal constant of 'nothing ever comes of it'!

Still, whatever keeps people thinking they're putting the World to right, without actually doing anything, eh?

God, I hate it when my period coincides with a full Moon!

Apologies to those that came here for a bit of deranged titillation. I'm sure that 'normal service' will be resumed in a few days, once the bloodshed is over.

Socks And Dregs And Sausage Rolls.

So that's it then!
I have finally, once-and-for-all, completely had it with men!
What is up with you creatures, eh?
It's really not good enough to just tart yourselves up when you go out, in the hope of luring some poor, innocent damsel (er me, sorta) back to your squalid plague pit!
It's also completely unfair to take advantage of the fact that said damsel is drunk enough that she won't notice until the morning, by which time you'll have had your wicked way.
I shouldn't have been surprised, I suppose, when I wriggled under the sheets to give this gunge monster a good morning kiss and ended up with a gob full of sausage roll. What the Hell was it doing there? Who takes a sausage roll to bed with them?
Jeez!
I'm now the proud owner of a pair of tea-stained knickers that I had to fish out of one of the many half empty cups littered about the place, and a skirt that smells of foot cheese.

I feel like I need a holiday!

Mastic And Spongaloid.

My God, how I hate having to call the builders in, particularly since I've lived in Ramsgate, as the place seems to have tradesmen entirely in a class of their own!
Still, when you've got water coming in through your lounge window, even when it's not raining, it's something you just have to bite the bullet and get on with.
I'm not sure how it works with everyone else, but I'm yet to find a builder who's proficient enough to invite back for a second job, so, yet again, I find myself with new faces on the doorstep, whistling through their teeth while making disapproving noises and scratching their wallets.
That's not to say that you can't have a bit of fun with them, and these two seemed just a tad dippier than the usual stock. After spending about 15 minutes trying to decide between themselves which would be the best course of remedial action (seemed more like two hours), I thought I'd chip in, to help things along, by suggesting that the application of a couple of spoons of mastic and spongaloid might be the answer, followed by "would you like a cup of tea?".
"Don't worry love", I was told, "we know how to fix this. Two sugars please."

I wonder how long they'll be trying research 'spongaloid', before the penny drops?

My guess would be that neither is likely to happen!

Mad Cow.

I was sent this video clip at the weekend, by a friend, with a little footnote that said 'Lucy, I thought you'd like this, it really reminds me of you.'





Well with friends like that, who needs enemies!

Still No Sign Of My Willy!

I'm getting more than a little concerned now, as my mole-rat, Willy, seems to have disappeared without a trace.
I've even gone to the lengths of researching the little fella's habits in the wild, in the hope of gaining some insight into where he may be hiding. All I could come up with is that he likes to nest in warm, soft moss, he only needs a minimal amount of water and can survive for about three months without food.
Not much help there, then!
I've looked around the flat, but all the moss that had gathered while I was away, seems to have perished since I've had the central heating back on.

I'm getting a little frantic now, as seems to be echoed in my level of anxiety. That gnawing feeling is getting quite a bit stronger and starting to have an impact on my ability to pee.

Are there professionals out there that can help?

Loose Willy.

Holy rickety door clasps, Batman, my Willy has only done a runner from his little cage by my bed.

I've looked everywhere but there's no sign of him at all.

I didn't think it would be possible to become so attached to a creature in such a short period of time, but the stress and anxiety of it all is causing quite a tingly, gnawing sensation in my lower abdomen.

Is it too early to call the police?