Tuesday, 30 October 2007

Routine Maintenance

I don’t like your hypocrisy
And you can call it “loyalty”
But really it’s duplicity
And I have caught you out.

What you think is malevolence
Is my brand of irreverence
You insult my intelligence
The way you have sold out.

I don’t like how you patronise
Devaluing me with your lies
And I'm not one for big goodbyes
So I have thrown you out.

Monday, 29 October 2007

The Gap Between Fantasy and Reality

"But what are you meant to be?"

"I am a black cat."

"Where are your ears?"

"They fell off."

"Where's your tail?"

"I haven't got one."

I was beginning to sense some doubt and felt obliged to point out I had actually put a bit of effort into my outfit.

"I did stick some wicked claws onto my gloves."

They glanced, tellingly, at my bare hands.

"I had to take them off though. It was too hazardous when I went to the toilet. I've got a mask. I only took it off for a moment as it made my face so hot. It's got whiskers and everything."

Some people have no imagination. I shrugged and sipped more wine. As far as I was concerned, I was Catwoman.

Tuesday, 23 October 2007

Illustration

Last week I wrote a ditty called Cheer the Fuck Up!
There was some discussion in the comments box over whether "twat" rhymes with "hat" or not.

This led to Freddy writing some Dr Suess style doggerel of his own, based on the concept of the Twat in the Hat.
After I expressed my desire to see it illustrated Freddy commented "Sadly, my dear Luka, I can't draw. Maybe Puckrup could provide a suitable image, or images? Do you think there's a book deal in it?"

Puck responded that he was "very tempted to illustrate this one".
And, lo and behold, he has. A somewhat pyschopathic Twat in the Hat, I'll grant you, but it captures the spirit of the Boudoir, and what we try to do here, rather nicely.

So, which children's classic would you like to see alternatively illustrated?

Sunday, 21 October 2007

Thank You For Your Indiscrimination

Someone has to do it, and I'm glad it isn't me
You take the kind of lovers I eschew
You've spread 'em for the losers, the loners and the lame
Fucking those that no-one else would want to.

I would shake your hand but I have read where it has been!
Still, leaving all my little jokes aside
By keeping all those weirdos in your pants and off the streets
It really is a service you provide.

Thursday, 18 October 2007

HMT - Animal Lover Special


He is feeling aggressive these days. His eyes follow me, which is disconcerting. I try to lose them - darting suddenly down an alleyway, doubling back on myself, hailing a taxi and speeding away - yet still they follow. His nose and ears can't be bothered, they just stay put.

He wants me to anticipate his needs, have his bananas peeled and his tyre swing ready when he wants them. If I am too slow he growls and throws poo at me.

Many people don't understand how I can live my life this way. "Isn't it humiliating?" they enquire. All I can say is that since I met Guy I feel complete. It is so much easier now I just submit whenever he beats his chest and whoops. It is liberating to let him control our life together. I never have to think about what to cook for dinner, for example. It's always bananas. And he does have a softer side. I get to lie there, content in his furry lap, for hours while he picks insects off me and gently breaks wind. Really, we're not so different to any other couple.

Tuesday, 16 October 2007

Cheer the Fuck Up

Go on. Have a laugh.

It won't split your face in half

Sitting there so dour

With a face to turn milk sour

Puts me off my wine

Stop looking so malign

Give us all a smile

Or would that cramp your style?

Angst is such old hat

You miserable twat.

Wednesday, 10 October 2007

Listen with Luka

Do you hear what I hear?

It is hard, isn't it, to pick out one coherent voice in the cacophony? This weird online world we choose to visit is a hubbub of voices striving to be heard. Unless you have a good ear it is likely to sound like generic crowd noise, the "rhubarb rhubarb" of the extras.

Those who shout loudest are not necessarily those worth listening to, though that doesn't mean that those who whisper have anything groundbreaking to say either. They just want you to lean in close, a subtle yet effective seduction technique.

Finding a writer you enjoy reading as you skip from site to site is a bit like tuning in your radio. You turn the dial and hear someone reading the news, the cricket scores, a burst of music, a burst of static, until suddenly you find something that makes you pause. You sing along if it's a song you know. You consider phoning in if it's a discussion topic you have an opinion on. You hope that what follows next will be as enjoyable. If it is you'll tune in again next time, if it isn't you turn the dial and move on.

What I find most frustrating is finding an original, interesting voice and tuning in each day to find it slowly becoming assimilated into the bland melange, until it is no longer distinguishable from any other voice in the chattering babble.

What I find most amusing is a voice trying to disguise its accent. "Ay em no longer a sex bloggar," they enunciate, carefully. "Ay em a literate!" This is entertaining enough to tune into on a daily basis just to hear the gradual re-emergence of their true voice as the effort of maintaining the facade becomes too great to sustain. "Ay was listening to some opera last night," they will announce. "Being classy like what I am, and, oh, fuck me ragged, guv, those great big wobbly men make me so wet! Have I mentioned my stockings today? Sex!"

That makes me dance around the living room in sheer, unadulterated joy.

Tuesday, 9 October 2007

The Very Best of Shitasm... So Far

Wow. In only a few short hours (or weeks, months, or whenever I can be arsed) the latest Shitasm will be posted: Shitasm #8! Literally tens of blog entries have been linked since it began on 20th July 2007, most of them entirely fictional. The 8th Shitasm celebrations will be prolonged and sumptuous, probably involving some sort of fireworks display and a parade. Until then, may I present The Very Best of Shitasm...so far...

No, actually, looking back on it, it was all wank.

Monday, 8 October 2007

A Spoonful of Sugasm...

...would be more than adequate. However my medicine just will not go down now that I have chanced upon the world's biggest Sugasm post, here. Oh, my aching eyes. A list of links, oh joy. I am sure it will provide hours of pleasure to some poor no-life fucktard.

I suppose this means a plethora of "100 Sugasms - How Wonderful" posts now. I hate them all, in advance. If I come to your blog and see one I will deface it. Yes, I know that means my monitor will be the only real sufferer, but so be it. You drove me to this, Sugasm Spammers.

*Shakes fist*

Sunday, 7 October 2007

Irritant

God, I'd like to slap you
You silly fucking bitch
Kick you in the chuff box
And scratch you like an itch.

You arouse my passions
In ways you'd not foreseen
You emit an aura
That makes me feel unclean.

God, I want to smack you
You utter waste of space
Push you off your slingbacks
And watch your fall from grace.

Friday, 5 October 2007

HMT/Fun Quiz Follow-Up!

So, yesterday I showed you this:

Some of you guessed arse, some guessed elbow, but the correct answer was...

Bosoms!


Thursday, 4 October 2007

Statistics and Ballistics

Today I did something I very rarely do. I browsed through my statistics and had a look at where people come from when they visit my blog.

Do you guys remember this highlight from August? Now, if you can be arsed, scroll down to the comments and read the one from Anonymous.

All water under the bridge now, of course.

And yet, as I perused my website referrers I discovered this. (So, that's who you are, Anonymous! Why didn't you just say so? If you'd been open enough to direct me to your post at the time I would have happily responded to the points you raised. As it is, rather than "reasoned debate from an old bear" coming "hard", it appears to come from a safe distance without any danger of an actual dialogue occurring. Still, that way you get to strut a bit in front of the laydeez and make out you bravely slayed the big, bad dragon.)

The comments (on this particular post, and others) do rather give the lie to the claim "I know none of these people" but they are amusing, nonetheless.

So, this last comment from the Anonymous Jungle VIP:

"Despite all the protestation.
She'll be more careful next time I think. Eiether that, or be worse."

Pretty much covers all the options there. No flies on that old bear. But what do you think, gentle readers? Have I become more careful or have I become worse?

HMT - Fun Quiz!


Yes, it's an HMT/Fun Quiz crossover!
Is the above my arse or my bosom cleavage?
Oh, the nanosecond of fun you can have guessing. See tomorrow's exciting post for the full picture.

Monday, 1 October 2007

Bloated

My faults are numerous and colourful, yet when I decide to take a break from the blogging world I take a proper break. I leave my laptop unplugged and throw myself into the Real World(tm). I do not check my comments. I do not check my email. I live my life and enjoy it, and then I come back.

Others, though, make a huge production number out of fucking off for a bit. They have Guest Bloggers, to post on their blog in their absence. They ask someone to moderate their comments while they are gone. Why? It's not like asking the neighbour to feed the fish or water the plants when you go away for a few days in Real Life(tm). No lives will be lost if people don't get to hear about what you stuck up your chuff on Wednesday. No harm will occur if people have to wait a few days to read about what Big Ken thought of your arse pic.

Is it an insecurity issue? Are these addicts afraid they will be forgotten about, abandoned, if there is nothing new on their blog for a few days? Is it all part of this insane Stats Fever that infects even the most rational blogger after a few weeks? Suddenly their sense of self worth is defined by how many people stumble across their blog and how many comments are made. The thought of potentially losing a reader because no new material was on the blog today brings them out into a cold sweat. So they have to schedule their machine to post automatically, or ask somebody else to post for them, in order not to see a decline in those precious precious numbers. It all gets very tabloid.

Or is it that some bloggers sense of importance has bloated beyond all recognition? Perhaps some bloggers truly believe their readers will suffer unbearably from withdrawal symptoms if they don't have some sort of placebo on standby. They look fondly upon their loyal commenters, suckling from their bloggy teats, ingesting the food for thought only they can provide, and believe a wet nurse is the only answer. They can only be weaned bit by bit, they believe, or they will howl all night long, such is their need.

Pah. What a load of cock.

Just fuck off, is my advice to anyone thinking of taking some time out from the blogging world. Just fucking go and stop making out you're some kind of BBC breakfast show DJ who needs someone to cover for them when they have a holiday. You're not. You don't. Fuck off.

Interesting

You find me exhausted and content.

I have had four days of intense mental stimulation, some physical exertion, and constant company. I have eaten good food, drank far too much wine, danced, entertained, acted, reacted, and laughed. I have not slept enough.

I am, however, no longer bored. I have not yet fully caught up on those blogs I frequent in these parts, it's true, but I am confident I shall be able to find something interesting this time round.

In the meantime let's have a gander at the comments on my boring post, below.