F is for 'Fucking Everything'
I composed this one mainly on the bus. I can't drive a car... well... I can drive a car... Just not safely. I'm a massive daydreamer you see, I have a habit of just 'zoning out', not in an epileptic way, but in a kind of dragonflies, rainbows and unicorns kinda way that can be problematic when doing sixty on a single carriageway in the countryside when suddenly a horse... look I'm doing it now for fucks sake, anyway....
Whilst pondering on F's and trying to avoid the word 'fucking' - I came to the conclusion that there is a lot of F's that one (that's the posh me) can blog about.
I shall write a little about each and call this 'fucking everything'
They are arranged in falthabetical order for those of you who are organised or have lisps.
Feeders - I met this guy, I quite liked him and he seemed fairly straightforward and normal, until this one day when he came over and said...
"I really like you but you're a bit skinny, I prefer my women over a size 14 at least"
Me... "erm well I'm not really comfortable with gaining weight for you"
Him.. "well, you don't have to, I was just saying I prefer it"
Me... "hmmm"
So we continue as we were, apart from he starts bringing me copious foodstuffs everytime he sees me, chocolate, pizza, wine.... I do my best to continue to eat in moderation, before he's suggesting we bake cakes together, sounds a bit romantic don't it... Let's just say it didn't work out... He just couldn't get past my size 10-12 frame and I couldn't get past his controlling shallowness - and dandruff (that's a D and we are well past that now)
Fellatio - I'm struggling with this ever since I found out that more senior members of my family have been reading my blog... You know who you are. Anyway I'm keeping this one brief... There's nothing like finding yourself in the midst of a sexual encounter, blocking out the fact that there are two spherical conjoined wrinkly sacks repeatedly bashing you on the forehead, to go on to look up and see fuzzy bum crack pubes that contain... Hang on what is that???
Tiny little turds.
Clinging on for dear life.
You see, one of my exes had a problem with hygiene and I found out the hard way. Let's just say he was transferring his belongings into the back of a transit, 3 weeks later, when I could only gag at the site of him. I won't even elaborate on the time I found him singing along to Tots TV...
Football manager - What the Fuck is it with this game? Oh hang on I'm sorry, forgive me... It's not a game is it, it's a fucking way of life, managing your own football team is majorly serious business, like, it demands you staying up til 5am drinking several carlsbergs to keep you alert, screaming when you lose against Shefield fucking Wednesday for the 12th time and you are so mad you throw that can across the lounge and run after it with your arms flailing about like a 6 year old who just broke his favourite robot.
Anyway, that particular CD-ROM one day went missing.... It acidentally went missing under the rails of the 0936 Dover Priory to Ramsgate service.
Choo-Choo!!!
Foreigners - by this I mean the Welsh.
Jokes!!!!
I did put up with a Welsh guy for a couple of weeks, until I realised what a cock he was.
That's all for now fans,
See you next time where we will fully explore, G is for... G is for...
I'll let you know!
Luv El xxx
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