Fruit Fly's

These are the 21st century version of fag hags, but the name, cute that it is, doesn't quite conjure up the same image. The term fag hag brings to mind a bitter woman who has let herself be cruelly mistreated by both men and women alike and takes refuge in the safety of her relationship with a pet fag. By being BFF with a gay boy she can conduct a close relationship of the female kind, do girly things with make up and clothes, tell all secrets, play round with hair do's and products but feel safe from the bitchiness, cat fighting and boyfriend stealing that is inherent in straight girl friendships. Likewise she has a male companion that she can trot out when needed without the added complication of sex arising, and knowing that she's not going to get thrown over for a newer model with bigger tits. Fag hags have lived life, they have stories to tell, albeit doormat mistreatment stories you probably don't want to hear, but they have a reason for being who they are, and thus I can understand.

Fruit fly's don't!

Fruit fly's are the new breed. They are young, and yes I admit that I am of the age where all the Mr Plods look like they've just graduated kndergarten, but these girls are junior junior league. When I see them in the clubs I keep looking round for their legal guardians. They are predominantly blonde and all wear similar little skimpy black dresses and lots of bling. They all have their own pet boy. I just don't understand, what have they done in life at their tender age to want to hide in this sort of relationship, AND, the boys are mean to them. The boys try to make the fruit fly's jealous by going off and dirty dancing with the sexy hot lesbians, and still they hang around. This has me so confused that I think I need to go and conduct more market research.

One more thing to ponder though is why is there no Lesbian equivalent? I guess the heterosexual male is the answer to that. If a fruit fly's pet boy started snogging another fag the fruit fly would back off. If a lesbian was out with a pet het and started snogging another woman, the het would want to join in, simple really.

Jamie update and warning

A wee bit of market research has been conducted on the new Jamie gizmo, and indeed stacks of the new toy are to be had at gourmet cooking shops, nestled in amongst the stacks of Jamie fry-pans. Strangely no-one had one out of the box for punters to play with, gosh even D'Vice lets you play with all the toys before you buy. I of course immediately pulled it from it's packaging to have a good look, it looks very sturdy, and it's an interesting concept. A blend of an old fashioned pharmacist pestle inside a mini food processor bowl, of sorts.

I still have some doubts about it so have had it subjected to some vigourous testing the results of which are below......

As I suspected, one needs to shake with both sides equally. Conclusion, purchase with caution.

Corporate gift

I have just been given a corporate gift for all my hard work during a recent large Rugby tournament. My office is located next to what is the "massage" room during the event, and selling tickets for my office space wasn't that difficult or taxing. The gift consists of two items, one being a bottle of wine. Now all gifts of alcohol a gratefully received, even if it is from a dubious supplier of a non vintage product, and we are all well conditioned now to know that screw caps are GOOD. The second item is a ticket to what I am told is a Rugby game at a large city stadium; hard to tell from the ticket as I thought it was to go watch some endangered wild African feline do something in a huge storm.

When will people learn, I DON'T DO BALL SPORTS.

No smacking

The child came prancing in all gleeful on the weekend announcing that I was no longer allowed to smack her. I'm devastated of course as my favourite Sunday afternoon activity has been taken from me. I am now resorting to more primitive forms of psychological torture and have started this morning with fresh tomato slices in the school lunch sandwiches.

bad Jamie

I had the misfortune of watching a Jamie Oliver show last night. As I have just paid the school fees for the child's state school education, social events away from the house are on hold for the interim. I didn't mean to watch this show, I had in fact taped (yes that's right old fashioned magnetic stuff) the Trinny and Susanah substitutes show, but apparently it's no longer on. This is annoying on two counts;

• It's taken me the whole season to accept that my idols have been replaced and to warm to the new versions and,
• If I know I am going to watch the show I need to spend the entire day prior chanting "she is not a drag queen", "she is not a drag queen"

So, a whole days chanting wasted.

Jamie was particularly boring, I do tend to think he is so last century but apparently there are still millions out there who don't. Personally I think they just watch him out of pity because his parents didn't care enough to take him to speech therapy. In the last few years he has set up a new restaurant with social misfits as staff, revamped England's (well the Home Counties) school dinners, travelled on his own round Italy cooking al fresco, and now appears to be doing his version of the "Good Life" in some rustic cottage somewhere. Where is the wife? Where are the children?

However, the point of this post is that he has a new gizmo. This is the boy who turned the old stone mortar and pestle into a designer household item, but evidently they are now just so yesterday. To replace it he has an item that looks eggshape and screws together in the middle. Inside is a large round ball object. He places the herbs inside and shakes it very hard, he did appear to be giving himself an injury, and he really should take turns to shake with each arm equally as you wouldn't want to get lop sided. This gizmo seems to be made of a very strong material, maybe wheel manufacturers should investigate. It also had a name which I didn't catch and as the whole show was just so dreary I'm not about to rewind to find out.

I do forsee though a queue forming in trendy cooking shops around the country. I may do some market research during the coming week.

Alloy Wheels

While going through the daily trauma of parking the car on my return home I started to ponder about alloy wheels. I live in a city where OSP is a precious commodity that I can't afford, hence parking on the street.

Now as any woman will tell you the only way to know that you are close enough to the curb is the noise of the wheels scraping along it, so who would invent wheels that disintegrate through this process. A male of course. Had these wheels been invented by a woman they would be made of the hardest material known to humankind, but would also include a little bounce factor for those unexpected tricky bumpy bits.

What is alloy anyway? Surely there is something more robust out there. If NASA space research was able to give us fabulous cookware, smooth irons, and that lovely springy metal wire they put in your children's braces, surely they could invent wheels that can survive my parking manoeuvres.

Another downside of the parking dilemma is the funny white marks that scraping along the curb leaves on your tyres. However, I have now thought of a way to turn this into an upside, I'm going to revive "whitewalls". I realise this process will take a lot of commitment from me but I know I'm more than capable of it.

OK here we go.......

.....on the suggestion of the infamous Cactus Kate I have set up a blog, now just gotta figure out how to use the bloody thing. When I have it all sorted, and have severely smacked and tied up the child so I can use the computer, I will keep you updated on the world of the un-PC Lesbian.........