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Friday 5 October 2012

G is for Goats... The Bad Boyfriend A-Z

G is for ..... Goats

Ok, just to clarify things, I have never dated a goat. For those who don't know, goats are a kind of small horse with antlers. I'd never date a horse or any type of animal, its illegal and messy. Although some might say, judging on my poor romantic history, that I would have been better off dating a honey badger, natterjack toad or sperm whale... you see, having a relationship with an animal would eliminate several problems, for instance it would never annoy the fuck out of me by playing world of warcraft for hours on end, smoking joints and drinking super tenants from a brown paper bag whilst farting and wanking off to gilf porn...

Back to goats...

I am terrified of goats. Probably a bit more than dogs (see D is for dogs for the full story). I really don't understand why, but many people think they are lovely and cute and stroke-able - when in actual fact they are evil and horrid creatures desperate to munch on your internal organs as soon as your back is turned.

You only need to look back in the history to find factual evidence that they are the children of the devil himself, disguised as tame farm animals, ready to chomp on your spleens as soon as they get the chance.

How does this relate to bad boyfriends you may ask yourself?

Well... I'm coming to this bit... You see... This boyfriend was not so bad, but he did make one BIG mistake... Yes...

'HE TOOK ME TO CHEDDAR GORGE'

Cheddar Gorge my friends is a place where you can buy lovely cheeses, it's the actual home of cheddar cheese, there is a museum there where kind workers offer you free, yes FREE samples of a variety of cheeses, how wonderful!

Cheese has several health benefits, including the enducement of trippy dreams; Personally after a heavy session I'm prone to finding myself in blissful REM - that's rapid eye movement which one will experience when dreaming and not Michael Stipe (the ambassador for Suicide) crooning away to Everybody Hurts. Was you aware that Michael Stipe has a holiday home at Beachy Head?

Anyway... Cheese... Health benefits.. Yes trippy dreams.., there was the night I was being chased by flying tea bags... They had teeth! Dear lord, teeth!!!!

Cheese also makes you have better orgasms, especially if you tie it to your bed knobs in October, so they say.

Cheese also burns calories, especially if you eat it whilst on a treadmill.

SO! We were at Cheddar (mmm cheese) eating cheese before he instructed me in a deeply sexual way that we were going to drive down the Gorge itself, now me being me thought this was a kind of euphemism, before we got in his car (his car was shitty but I've done C already... Perhaps I'll do R is for Renault)... And actually drove down the gorge... No shenanigans for me... Just gorge driving, and munching on the tiny squares of cheese I had previously sampled/stolen in blissfull happiness. Anyway, we parked up and got out for a wander and to tale some photos as you do, and it was all very lovely until I heard a noise....

MAAAAAAAAAA

MAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

And then I spot them the satanic evil creatures, charging in a pack towards my spleen aarrrghhhhjh.... I screamed... Weeee'rreeee ggoooiiinnggg toooo dieeeeeeeeeeeee

I couldn't get to the car fast enough, as I sprinted down the road, gripping onto my stolen cheese for dear life, and I could hear them on my heels, their teeth grinding and snarly hot breath maaaaaaa'ing at me in anticipation of the human flesh they so desire....

"OPEN THE FUCKINGGGGG DOORSSSSS YOU BASTARDDDDDD" I scream at this stupid man...

As i turn to see him... 'why is he laughing at me I'm going to kill his ridiculous face with my nails until he bleeds out of his ear holes...' (I was pretty mad)...

And just as they were inches away from chomping on my ankles, the doors popped open.

What a cunt I thought to myself.

The end... ish...

Luv El xxx

Wednesday 3 October 2012

F is for 'Fucking Everything' - The Bad Boyfriend A-Z

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