Damp Reality

So today was meant to be sunny, temperatures in excess of 20 degrees C.

It's not! We have wall-to-wall clouds and it's raining.

Therefore today's post is relates to dampness ... in a round about kind of way.

Let's go to Hollywood ... the Dream Factory!

How often have you seen a movie or a TV show where a man and woman, usually after some fighting or hilarious (ha!) antics, end up in bed ... you know ... doing rootie-toot!

It happens a lot doesn't it?

No? Well maybe I'm watching the wrong kind of shows, who knows?

Anyway, they do it ... the rootie-tootie stuff.

There is then normally a bit of dialogue revolving around earthquakes or tremors and stuff. Maybe even that old classic; a cigarette.
Then, when it's all over, one of two things happens:

1. one or both parties have to suddenly leap out of bed and rush off to be somewhere.
2. they fall asleep (cut to next scene)

OK! Are we clear so far?

Good!

My point is this:  take for example No.1 ... let us say Bob (it's nice to give your characters normal names) receives a phone call just after doing the deed and saying "WOW! You were fantasic!" a lot.

He leaps from the bed, pulls on his clothes and races off to work/meet someone.

OK ... so far so good!

Now here is my point.

Why, when Bob gets to where hes going, does no one ever say "PHWOARR! Bob, you smell like you've just been bonking some woman's brains out!"

As for option 2 ... falling asleep.

Well they do, don't they!  They don't 'clean up'!

They dribble!

And there is never any evidence of that age old argument that married couples have after every rumpy-pumpy.

You know the one ...

... the one about who's going to sleep on the damp spot!

Oh, come on!

You ALL know it's true!


(Offended? Noooooo! How can I make things right between us?)

The Lady's Schnauzer (re-post)

This post has been read many times.
For those who missed it before, and because I'm a little busy right now, here it is again.

 

The Schnauzer

My neighbour found out that her dog could hardly hear, so she took it to the veterinarian.  The vet found that the problem was hair in the dog's ears. He cleaned both ears, and the dog could hear fine. The vet then proceeded to tell the lady that, if she wanted to keep this from recurring, she should go to the pharmacy and get some "Nair" hair remover and rub it in the dog's ears once a month.  The lady went to the pharmacy and bought some "Nair" hair remover.  At the register, the pharmacist told her "If you're going to use this under your arms, don't use deodorant for a few days."  The lady said "I'm not using it under my arms."  The pharmacist said "If you're using it on your legs, don't shave for a couple of days."  The lady replied "I'm not using it on my legs either. If you must know, I'm using it on my schnauzer."   The pharmacist said, "Then you'd better stay off your bicycle for about a week."

Sym

Yesterday was the first anniversary of my boy Sym's crossing of the Bridge!

 

He is sorely missed still.

 

However, he is still with me and I talk to him every day!

 

I know, I know ... he was only a dog ... is that what you're thinking?

 

Well, he may have been a dog, but there was no 'only' about it.

 

He was family!

 

He was ... is ... my best friend!

 

Every walk I take with Clover, he walks with us. I'm sure Clover feels his presence too.

 

Our bond has not been broken and my love for my best friend is still strong!

 

Run ahead Sym!

 

I'll catch you up!

Someone's Looking At Me

Traffic!

I'm sure I've mentioned Cardiff's traffic problems before ... in fact I know I have, but writing 'I'm sure I've mentioned Cardiff's traffic problems before' gives me an opportunity to pad out this weeks offering, thus making it seem as if a great deal of thought has gone into it.

Where was I?

Oh yes!

Traffic!

It's the school holidays at the moment and traffic is light, especially at 7.15 am.

So on this merry, if somewhat damp, morning ... as I zipped to and fro through the Vale of Glamorgan ... I allowed myself to be entertained by The Boomtown Rats.

I bopped, if that is the correct word, along to the music ... sang at the top of my voice ... tapped out beat on the steering wheel whilst tapping my seldom used clutch foot.

Them I came to a set of traffic lights on red.

I stopped, as you do, but continued to bop/sing/tap as i waited for the green light to illuminate my way and allow me to pass.

I thought, at the time, that I was the only car on the road. I hadn't seen another soul for several minutes, so I really got stuck in as Bob and he boys complained that someone was always looking at them.

The lights took an age to change but I didn't worry. I was having a jolly good sing-song!

Then, just as the track was coming to an end I glanced to my right ...

There, in a blue Honda CRV sat four middle-aged women.  They were staring at me.

I immediately stopped all musical activities and, as the heat of a full-blown blush began to build in my face, they applauded!

It was then, and only then, that I decided to drive the rest of the way to work in silence.

And I closed the window!

That was several hours ago ... and as yet there has been no reduction in my sense of embarrassment.

The song I was singing:

Someones Looking At You

On a night like this I deserve to get kissed at least once or twice
You come over to my place screaming blue murder, needing someplace to hide.
Well, I wish you'd keep quiet,
Imaginations run riot,
In these paper-thin walls.
And when the place comes ablaze with a thousand dropped names
I don't know who to call.
But I got a friend over there in the government block
And he knows the situation and he's taking stock,
I think I'll call him up now
Put him on the spot, tonight.

They saw me there in the square when I was shooting my mouth off
About saving some fish.
Now could that be construed as some radical's views or some liberals' wish.
And it's so hot outside,
And the air is so sweet,
And when the pressure drop is heavy I don't wanna hear you speak.
You know most killing is committed at 90 degrees.
When it's too hot to breathe
And it's too hot to think.

There's always someone looking at you.
S-s-s-s-someone.
They're looking at you.

And I wish you'd stop whispering.
Don't flatter yourself, nobody's listening.
Still it makes me nervous, those things you say.

You may as well
Shout it from the roof
Scream it from your lungs
Spit it from you mouth
It could fall on deaf ears to indulge in your fears
There's a spy in the sky
There's a noise on the wire
There's a tap on the line
And for every paranoid's desire...

There's always Someone looking at you.
S-s-s-s-someone looking at you...
They're always looking at you.

(written by Bob Geldof)

Annoyed From Cardiff

Don't you just hate those phone calls ... the ones where someone with an Indian accent asks to speak to someone you don't even know?

And when you answer with "Sorry! Wrong number!", they start asking you if they can speak to someone else you don't know or, if you have a PC or laptop.

"No! He's doesn't live here either!" or "I don't have a PC!" doesn't seem to dampen their ardour and they continue to quiz and query.

Those conversations can only end with an annoyed recipient slamming the phone down then having a thirty minute rant about how irritating cold callers are.

And there are days when they come like My. Ford's car parts rolling down the assembly line ... Model T Ford cold calling!

I have had three already this morning!

And the most irritating thing ... the thing that winds me up like a clockwork soldier ... is that I'm pretty damned sure that I signed up to one of those schemes that filters those calls out!

But hey! It's ok!

I can live with the fact this scheme thingy isn't working.

I can ... because it was free!

But ... aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhh!

Why do they call and call and call?

Why don't they remove you from their database or flag you up as "very annoyed, probably suicidal"?

I know they have a job to do and earn very little doing it ... but it just makes you want to kill when their calls keep on coming.

Grumblegrumblemoangroanmoanmoanmoan!

On a lighter note ... I have lost 23.37 lbs (get it? A LIGHTER note!)

And I haven't been dieting!

Just eating in moderation!

Say "Well done that man!"

Pat's on the back gratefully accepted!