All you need is love

It's all you need according to the Beatles, apparently..obviously. All You Need Is Love has just come on the Squeezebox via Last Fm. Lynden David Hall version of course, and it just hits me. I feel quite sick. Messy.

When someone close in your family passes, dies, is no longer there, it messes with you for the rest of your existence.

It catches you unexpectedly.

It also catches you when you want to be caught. When you want to be messy.

Just tonight. Catching the vibe of Michael Jackson going/passing/leaving (delete accordingly), has brought on higher sensitivity in me that perhaps I don't want to deal with right now.

Sort it out girlfriend

I don't know what happened. Life gets busy. You think about the blog that you have nurtured unintentionally for so many years and start to feel a bit guilty. Not lazy. Just guilty. For not writing. Have had plenty to write about. Just the thought of booting up my slow computer (it was fast to start with but aging rapidly year after year)(errr is that me we're talking about now?!),  sends me straight to the pub instead. (or should that really read gym?).

I have decided today since coming back from two weeks in Cologne (what an inspirational trip that was; the girls, openly lesbian or bi were totally fit and I am impressed and want some of that action indeed and, like, now), that I have to write.

Somewhere.

I am still questioning why there are so many nasty looking girls in Sussex. Just moved to the wrong area without prior research - obviously.

Grrr.

It might as well be here.

Bring on creativity.

Ommpa Loompah + full moon + me =?

This is a major note to self.

The above combination do not a good combo make.

You know what you are like every full moon.

Do not invite weird, but oddly curious midget sized bi girls who are on heat to your house bearing gifts of copious amounts of alcohol ever again.

Do you hear?

Don't do it.

It will only end up with you snogging the lard off her and making some kind of nasty sandwich.

Stop it.

Get out more.

With immediate effect.

Worthing stabbing, tagging, burglary 2008

I am becoming alarmed, even to the point of quiet hysteria (if there can be such a thing) about the rapid decline in the town of Worthing. Dare I even say my street is getting worse?

I would have thought that two murders on my street is enough for anyone.

I no longer have to buy the weekly rag to get the news.

I just need to walk out my front door. A neighbour will update me. Burglaries, stabbings, drunken teenagers tagging everything white...

I have a problem with all this, but my biggest problem is that someone could have cleared up all the blood all over the bridge (Jacob's Ladder). Very disgusting.

I am making plans to be out of this country by next Summer.

Enough is enough.

Little Miss Oompa lets it all out

The other night I got chatting with Little Miss Oompa and she decided to get all flirty with me on Messenger.

Of course I was horrified at the turn this conversation was going so I chose the direct route and told her she wasn't my cup of tea.

Hey ho.

This only blimming well encouraged her.

Stoked her fire.

She then proceeded to tell me how she would like to kiss me and do unthinkable, let alone unmentionable, things to me.

I told her that I didn't fancy her in 'that way' but as usual fell on deaf ears.

She was not drunk either when chatting with me.

She was drinking coke.

I was, as usual, drinking bad wine.

Just as an aside, to all you 'great wine makers' wanna send me one so that I can have my faith restored in fine wine? Because at the moment, you ALL suck. And getting me in to far too much trouble:-)

I don't have a clue what my next 'move' should be.

Am stewing like a dormant volcano.