Haiku Saturday

Hey, lady! It's Saturday. That can only mean one thing: it's Haiku Saturday!

You know what to do.

Just click here, bitch.

Failure to do so may result in me coming over to your place and spanking you on the bare bottom. And, yes! With a wet hand!

In the kitchen with Minge

Anyone remember House Party? Sadly, I can find no reference to it on the internet. Perhaps it's the one thing that isn't mentioned on the world-wide web at all!

Mother and I adored it.

The viewer was made to believe that all these women were meeting up in someone's house of an afternoon (it was actually in a studio) and would discuss dressmaking, cookery and entertainment. The doorbell would ring and with a look of shock and/or excitement, one of the ladies might open the door to a soap opera star, a politician or just some old biddy off of the street.

With a nod to the aforementioned telly programme, come with me into my kitchen, dear reader...



This is a new cup and saucer! I love cups and saucers, don't really go for mugs. They're so working class. I bought the above in Japan. Takayama to be exact. It's adorable. This was the first coffee ever drunk from it!



Notice anything odd about the above carrot?



What about now, it having been sliced?

Did you know, dear reader, that carrots were originally purple? Sometimes, a freaky orange one would turn up. These were seen as strange and exotic, so were bred, became popular and the purple ones died out! Well, kind of. They're still going, as you'll see above. I love this variety as it's orange in the middle. They look wrong, which is fabulous. I hate things that look normal. Quirky is good.



The carrots became part of our evening meal. Some kind of vegetable dahl. We're on a health kick after our holiday (photographs of my new muffin-top to come) so a low fat/high fibre meal was definitely in order. Served with brown rice and barley.

No salt.

Oh, and a grain and a pulse make a whole protein!

Slap

Read this.

Awful business.

I'd have done more than slap those bloody kids, I can tell you. And I abhor violence!

Edinburgh-Copenhagen-Tokyo-Naha

I can't really believe that we arrived on the island of Okinawa well over three weeks ago. Looking back over my journal, it feels like only yesterday, but my brian is telling me it all happened years ago...

We touched down in Naha airport at 1830 local time, having left home at 0445 the previous day. I'm not a mathematician and don't care, now, to work out how long we were actually travelling, but it was a hell of a long time. Not a journey I'd wish to repeat anytime soon, being jet-lagged the way I am. It's funny, but I didn't feel as bad then as I do now. Perhaps the excitement of our arrival offset that. I don't know.

Our flights from Edinburgh and Copenhagen went without a hitch, all according to plan. The only snag was the surly woman, Karen, on the check-in desk in Edinburgh. If I hadn't have needed to keep her sweet, I'd have bitch-slapped her. The cow.

"Would it be possible to have a window seat on the Copenhagen to Tokyo leg?" Ian asked.

"Give me a minute!" she snapped.

The bitch.

We didn't ask again. On walking away, inspecting our boarding cards, we saw that we were to be seated right in the middle of the central block of seats in Economy Class - as far away from a window as she could have got us. You can't tell me there were no window seats approximately ten hours before the flight.

Gggrrr.

We had a short excursion, taking the train into Copenhagen city centre in-between flights. Calling it a city centre makes me feel like I'm committing a crime. It didn't feel like a city. I'd be more comfortable calling it a village. It's hard to believe 1.2 million people live there.

Denmark is expensive. Before returning to the airport, we had an orange juice and a sandwich. We paid about six pounds sterling for the piece. The cheapest we could find. Most other places were nine.

Denmark needs the €uro.

So do we.

Anyway, back at the airport... A kind lady at the gate reallocated us into some super seats at the window. I had been quite sad up until that point. Not only for the lack of a window seat, but because of the ugly manner displayed to us by Karen.

I'm sorry if you're called Karen, dear reader. If you are, you're not going to like what I'm about to say:

I've never met a nice Karen yet. They've all been utter cunts.

Hey, pregnant lady, if you have a girl, don't call it Karen. She'll turn out an utter wanker and grow old, alone, bitter, with no friends. Naming a child Karen is nothing short of a curse.

It seems the further one gets away from Britain, the more helpful and courteous people are.

In Japan, with very few exceptions, we were greated with a hearty Irashimase! and immediate service... One realises how poorly we are treated here in the UK.

Tokyo was very warm and muggy - cloudy, no sun. We had some hours to spare before taking our flight to Okinawa so leisurely took the bus from Narita to Haneda. Very easy, cheap and simple. On arrival at Haneda, we looked for Mochi. We found none. Christ! After failing in our search, we went to the airport observation deck to look at the aeroplanes. We didn't stay outside too long as the humidity was far too oppressive.

The flight to Okinawa was only ten minutes late departing and arriving. Of course, JAL staff apologised deeply and profusely. I should imagine several staff members committed harakiri. If they didn't, I'm sure they would if we'd asked.

There were only sixty people on a Boeing 747 which would normally seat around five to six hundred (at a guess). The cabin crew, lacking passengers, did their best to look busy, touring the aircraft, making sure the overhead bins were securely fastened. Doing this once or twice might have been acceptable, but twenty to thirty times was a tad ridiculous. There must have been about twenty stewardesses on board. All ladies. Are the gays not drawn to the world of the trolley dolly as they are in the west? Before we boarded the flight, thirty two cleaners (yes, we counted them, sad, I know) gave the aircraft a good going over in under ten minutes.

I'm guessing unemployment is low here. It's better than having people on the dole, I suppose.

Susan and her son Connor picked us up from the airport. What a nice lady.

On leaving the airport for the car park, we were hit, like a mallet, in the face, with humidity like I'd never known before. Completely OTT.

Susan very kindly drove us (for over an hour) to our 1970s style kitch hotel, right on the beach. I thought I'd stumbled onto the set of Hawaii 5-0. Even our aeroplane looked like it was out of the seventies. No electronic gadgets for headphones, just those old hollow plastic tubes of days gone by! Japan is a land of extremes. Technology, tradition, the stone age... Ok, so perhaps not the stone age, but you get what I'm saying. Ray, Susan's husband told me that cassettes are still very popular in Japanese cars.

I never liked tapes. They served their purpose. I'd record an LP to avoid it being scratched ond worn through overplaying it. When the tape wore out, I'd record the LP again. What a fine system it was...

On arriving at the hotel, we took a walk to the beach, paddled our toes in the unbelievably warm sea, saw some rather large bats (like teddy bears with wings!), had a shower and then went to bed.

If it wasn't for waking up in the middle of the night, thinking I'd woken up in a greenhouse, I'd have slept like a baby. Try as I like, I couldn't be green. The air conditioning went back on and back to the land of nod I went.

Worzel - the bad butler

The Doctor goes sightseeing

Telling bone

Hey, lady!

Minge just got himself a new mobile telephone! It's a Nokia N80. It's taking me a while to get used to. It's got a really good camera and, I'm pleased to say, it's quad band, so will work in Japan!

I wonder what Catweazle would make of it?

By the way, if you adore the smelly old wizard, you might enjoy looking at this.

I tried finding an excerpt on YouTube, but all I could find was this. It's only scenes from the programme with warnings about piracy dubbed over the original track. Bastards! The gays will be pleased, though, dear reader, as there are also scenes from the gayest movie of all time. Can you guess what it is?

Blog entry of the day

Check this out:

The truth according to the bitch.

All mantras for a Minge style life.

We all struggle for glamour and beauty. Live your life like the bitch and you won't go far wrong.

Boob

Ms Posh has definitely not had another boob job.

Click here for proof.

For the straight people out there...

The Hormone Hostage knows that there are days in the month when all a man has to do is open his mouth and he takes his life in his own hands! This is a handy guide that should be as common as a driver's license in the wallet of every husband, boyfriend, or significant other!

1 DANGEROUS:
2 SAFER:
3 SAFEST:
4 ULTRA SAFE:

1 What's for dinner?
2 Can I help you with dinner?
3 Where would you like to go for dinner?
4 Here, have some chocolate.

1 Are you wearing that?
2 Wow, you sure look good in brown!
3 WOW! Look at you!
4 Here, have some chocolate

1 What are you so worked up about?
2 Could we be overreacting?
3 Here's my paycheck.
4 Here, have some chocolate.

1 Should you be eating that?
2 You know, there are a lot of apples left.
3 Can I get you a glass of wine with that?
4 Here, have some chocolate.

1 What did you DO all day?
2 I hope you didn't over-do it today.
3 I've always loved you in that robe!
4 Here, have some more chocolate.

What kind of candy are you?

Tootsie Roll Pop

It only takes three licks to get to your center!

What Kind of Candy Are You?

Back! Back!! Back!!! Etc.

I've been back in the UK for a little over thirty six hours.

What are thirty six hours? That sentence makes no sense to me, just a bunch of numbers.

Twenty four hours does not a day make. We chased the sun for all of that time, seeing no night, only the sun. The extended day, the changing of the hands on the face of my watch going back, then further back and trying to work out what time my body thought it was punched a hole right through my head, made my stomach churn, turned my legs to jelly and my feet to water-filled balloons.

I am glad to be back, really I am. I just wish I could have missed out the entire return journey. In honour of that journey, a journey which seemed to turn everything on its head, I will begin to recount my all-Nippon-holiday from the end. Backwards is sometimes good. It certainly feels good today.

We woke up just before six am, though it could have been half past five, I'm not sure, on the final day of our three week trip to the land of the rising sun. I hate early mornings, but managed to get up out of bed without too much fuss. Having been to a Sento the night before, we didn't bother with a shower (dirty pigs, I know), just got dressed, took the cases downstairs had an English breakfast (a cup of tea and a fag), said goodbye to Alan and Junya before hitting the road.

Making our way to the airport via local trains and the Narita Express was not fun. The Japanese race has a world-wide reputation for politeness. It's all quite true. They are very polite. But not all of the time. Their politeness and selfishness thresholds may be higher than other people from the West, but once they cross that line, it's everyone for him or herself.

There are markers on all platforms in Japanese railways stations. Passengers know where the train is going to stop and form an orderly queue where the doors are going to open.

Until the doors open.

Depending on how busy the station and/or train is, passengers will either leisurely make their way onto the train or pretend they are in a rubgy game; heave people out of their way, push in line, stamp on toes, elbow people in the ribs or simply shove other passengers onto the train. Japanese people, in the main, do not apologise or excuse themselves if they drop their case on your foot or whack you in the face with their bag. There are many, many words for sorry and excuse me. Just think about the nature of the Japanese people, their culture; their adoration of formality, good manners and etiquette. Yet they are loathed to use such terms. They could come across as arrogant. The only counter measure is to remember that these people are differnt. They look differnt to me, they act differently to me. Their alternative behaviour does not necessarily make them rude. At least that's what I kept telling myself.

Perhaps one should look at the Japanese landscape and see how overcrowded the very few flat areas of the country are to understand why the Japanese people behave in the way which they do. Personal space is limited and so excites other forms or behaviour, quite different to practically every other country in the world.

The flight to Copenhagen was horrendous. Cattle and other farm animals have more right to space in transit than human beings do. At least there was in flight entertainment. What a shame, though, that it was all shit. I had two brief naps of about ten minutes each. I spent the vast majority of the rest of my time staring into empty space. No wonder I'm going md.

A four hour wait in Copenhagen airport was not long enough to utilise by taking a trip into the city and too long for the airport alone to entertain us. As last time, we spent about twenty minutes simply travelling along the travelator. It's a great alternative to tapping your fingers on a desk, biting your nails or twiddling your thumbs.

On arriving in Edinburgh, with our sight of the sun finally lost, after almost twenty four hours without sleep, we were home.

I felt like death.

My eyes felt like they'd been stung by gnats and were painful to keep open.

Typically, the taxi driver taking us from Edinburgh airport to our home was chatty. Call me a bitch if you must, but I let Ian do all the talking. Well, it's not that I let him. I was actually physically unable to do anything else.

A quick shower... We were in bed by 22:00 and asleep a few minutes later. I slept like a baby, waking at a reasonable 08:00 the next day. After a small breakfast of Weetabix, coffee and orange juice, I had a wash, got dressed and we made our way to Muiravonside to get the puppies!

My sleep pattern isn't back to normal yet. I was in bed and asleep by 22:30 last night, which is early for Minge, but wide awake at 05:00. Perhaps I'll have a better night tonight.

It's good to be back.

Things I miss about Japan:

• Western-style Japanese toilets
• Efficiency
• Warm weather
• Mochi
• Engrish

Things I don't miss about Japan:

• Rice
• Cold, cooked fish
• Traditional Japanese toilets
• Curry doughnuts
• Xenophobia

It all seems so long ago now, dear reader.

Everybody needs a bit of JP from time to time...

Panthere grise
Déteste les enfants terribles
Déteste leurs petites voix dans la nuit
L'armée des citoyens seniors entrez le grand mausollée
Silence! Silence!
Sinon la méthode Mao Ming
Pourquoi du couscous et des hamburgers
Vivent l'éclair et les mille feuilles
Panthère grise
Déteste les enfants terribles
Déteste leurs petites larmes de crocodile
Liberté, fraternité, conformité
La maxime de Army Of Lovers
Citoyens de l'univers
Don't think different

Guns

Why aren't guns banned in the USA?

Click here to see why they should be.

A former Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, I think, was once asked why the British police aren't armed. He replied, "Because we don't arm our criminals."

Allowing individuals to own guns does not cut gun crime, in fact, it encourages it. The notion that having a gun will stop one from being shot is pure fantasy.

Cheerio

I bid thee a fond farewell, dear reader. This will be my last post for a while, unless I have internet access in Japan, which I doubt. If you've something urgent that you wish to share with me, please feel free to email me, though I can't guarantee when I'll see my emails or when I'll get to reply to you, my little maid.

Try to be good while I'm gone and think of Minge from time to time.

If you've asked for a postcard, watch your box.

Oh, and last, but by no means least, Fib Sunday will carry on without me. Some delicious hunk has kindly offered to host the event for the next three Sundays. You can catch it over at the Blog Of Rand. Go on, you know you want to.

TTFN.

Edinburgh Festival fireworks 2006

• There were a lot of vile schemies.
• Chinese people seem to think it's ok to squat and piss in the midst of a crowd.
• Justin Timberlake lookielikies like fireworks.
• I wore a scarf for the first time this year since the Spring.
• I don't like crowds.
• Some people think screaming for no reason is fabulous.

I just hope there are no more fireballs in the sky over the next two days, especially not in a two mile radius of Minge. We're on our way to Japan, via Copenhagen.

Weather in Okinawa

I'm depressed.

Click here to see why.

Once more into the bleach

Nobody's perfect

The best way to start the day, dear reader, is with a coffee.



Heavy rain in the night had broekn several of my Gladioli. I found the above flower on the slabs in my back garden, it's parent stem having been snapped by Mother Nature. She's a bitch, but I suppose nobody's perfect.



Of those that were still in good condition, flowering or about to flower, only four could be saved. I cut them and brought them into the house. I hate cutting flowers. They are so much nicer and last longer in the garden. The wrost part about cutting them is that we'll only be here to enjoy them for another day and a half. Japan beckons.



Oh, and last night I finished my scarf. I'm never going to manage the black one. It's not even started yet, but I'll take my hook, wool and scissors with me - in my hold luggage, of course - to Japan.



I think it looks quite camp. And that's fabulous.



My hair is currently being bleached. I hope it turns out well. I'd like it to be as white as snow, this time, dear reader.



And there's still the lion's share of the packing to do. We're not lazy or disorganized. No. Some things simply have to be left to the last minute. I could hardly have packed the wash bag last night. How would I have had a shave this morning? As it is, I didn't shave until late this afternoon and will now not do so again until we arrive in Okinawa. I don't think the Japanese appreciate an unshaven Minge. If they don't like it, they can lump it.

Like Fib Sunday, touched for the very first time...

Hey, gorgeous!

It's Fib Sunday. Doesn't the week come round quickly? It's scarey.

Where does all the time go? If somebody does know, could they please parcel it up and send it to me? I'd so much like to enjoy June 1976 again.

If you don't know, dear reader, what Fib Sunday is, what's going on or how to play, please click here. Also, please note that some gorgeous hunk has kindly offered to host Fib Sunday for the next three weeks while I take my all-Nippon-holiday.

Last week, the topic we were left with was Great Lakes...

Sink,
Pond,
Puddle...
Windermere:
England's largest lake's
Like a bath, compared with Erie.

Next topic:

Our Glorious Leader!

Glasgow

I went over to Glasgow today to meet up with my main bitches, Gabby and Janette. If the three of us were in a women's prison (think Bad Girls) - Gab and Janette would be the top dogs. I would be their dosile slave. I would peel their grapes and feed them chocolates. I would light their fags for them, polish their steel-toecapped boots and probably announce their arrival to the women of B wing, making sure they scatter before my ladies arrived.

As it is, we are not convicts.

We are just fabulous.

Janette and Gabby had come up from London to see Robbie Williams play Hampden Park in Glasgow last night. They stayed overnight in the city and had most of the day free, today, before flying back down south.

We had a high old time. Pizza, booze, shoplifting... A perfect day.

Sadly, though, dear reader, the batteries on my camera ran out the very moment I'd asked a Costa waiter to take our photograph. My only other means of capturing the moment was my not-very-good-camera-phone. The waiter duly obliged. Gabby mentioned something about size. The waiter gave her a knowing look and shot!

Gabby did seem obsessed with size today. I've never realised this before today, but she is a size queen. Even when we were children, whatever I had, she always wanted the same, but bigger.

I've made a poem up about her:

In Glasgow, she saw the jocks!
"These are kilts," they said, "not frocks!"
She wastes no time when opportunity knocks!
Lifts up said kilt, to see big cocks!

I know it's rubbish, but it is late, dear reader.

Haiku Saturday

Hey, lady!

It's Saturday (well, it was four or five minutes ago, dammit!).

That can mean only one thing: It's Haiku Saturday!

Click here to play.

Go on, you know you want to.

Blogday

Better late than never...

Blogday. Read this.

What will happen on BlogDay?

In one long moment In August 31st, bloggers from all over the world will post a recommendation of 5 new Blogs, Preferably, Blogs different from their own culture, point of view and attitude. On this day, blog surfers will find themselves leaping and discovering new, unknown Blogs, celebrating the discovery of new people and new bloggers.

BlogDay posting instructions:

1. Find 5 new Blogs that you find interesting

2. Notify the 5 bloggers that you are recommending on them on BlogDay 2005

3. Write a short description of the Blogs and place a a link to the recommended Blogs

4. Post the BlogDay Post (on August 31st) and

5. Add the BlogDay tag using this link: http://technorati.com/tag/BlogDay2006 and a link to BlogDay web site at http://www.blogday.org*

See if I do it right:

Earth, Sky & Beyond

Beautiful photographs and commentary on the earth, other heavenly bodies, the sky and the universe.

Helping Prevent Great Lakes Piracy

Bizarre and addictive.

Escape Velocity

Creative writing, humo(u)r and wit. Totally fabulous.

Conservative Teacher

Jaw droppingly awful, but strangely addictive. One sometimes forgets that people have such vile views. Car-crash-TV, blog-style. With bits from horror movies and 1936 Berlin.

Arab Gay Blog Community

Gay, I am, an Arab, I am not. This is very enlightening.

*Couldnt find a tag, dear reader. Gggrrr.

Vrai/Faux

True or false:

Words are useless, especially sentences.

Limahl

Life is tough for a child experiencing adult emotions, finding new things out about themselves and wondering if what they're feeling is right or wrong.

Everyone can relate to that.

Awakenings...

My sexual awakenings were not thunderbolts, not riotous explosions, not orchestral crescendos, nor were there fireworks and rockets. It just crept up on me, bit by bit.

I remember having erections, staring at it, wondering what was going on, feeling uncomfortable. It looked weird.

Then something strange happened. I saw Limahl (aka Chris Hamill), the lead singer of Kajagoogoo on Top Of The Pops. He had a beautiful voice, a lovely smile and was so utterly gorgeous. I fantasized about holding him and kissing him on the mouth. I got an erection. I remember quite vividly that this was the very moment when the penny dropped and I put two and two together. I knew why I was having erections. I knew it was to do with sex, but had no idea who did what, how, or to whom. The only thing I did know, though, was my feelings of sexiness involved men and men alone.

Trying to think about time, dates and all that now is quite difficult. It was more than twenty years ago, but some time later a boy in my school told me what masturbation actually was. Well, he did more than tell me, he showed me. I imagined he was Limahl. It was all over in a number of seconds.

I'm not ashamed of any of this. It happened. It must happen that way for a lot of teenagers. I'm glad it happened to me in a happy and safe environment and that I was a willing party.

What is curious, though, is that in both crucial moments of my sexual development, Limahl was involved.

Limahl - I salute you and in honour of the large part (excuse the pun) you played in my life back in the 1980s, I offer, for seven days only or one hundred downloads (whichever comes first) Then Suddenly (Almighty Mix) by Limahl for download. If you like it, please check out The Best Of Limahl. You'll be glad you did, dear reader.

White shoes

Whilst looking for a photograph of white shoes, I found the image to the left, here.

Is it a she-male?

Whatever it is, it's intriguing and I'd like one. Can anybody lend me a few quid?

A word to the wise

Remember, dear reader:

You can't wear white shoes after Labor Day. And white belts are a serious no-no, too.

Jeez - I'm longing to add the letter u to Labor.

Sept vite

My delicious pal, Alan, made it to Dubai this week. There's no gaydar.

In other news:

Autumn arrived, as did roundabouts, charges were dropped, there was a State Fair, Brian had a thought and told us what's to come, college football started, Ric was disappointed, Alex didn't want to be assassinated, time went by, Juggerpix thought we forgot, Kapitano lost 7 lbs and we were asked if we have any idea how fucking miserable it is to do the bins in the rain. Moncrief Speaks cast his mind back to sixteen months ago, exhaustion ensued, PJS revealed that the autumn is his favourite season, pussy was licked, research was done, we learned that children are irrational, Papa got a brand new bag, China got frazzled, Phyllis dished up, it was Poetry Thursday, Zona told us he doesn't like pickles and I continued to crochet (note to self: buy more wool this afternoon - and some milk!).

The last seven websites I looked at:

Celebdaq
BBC News
Blogspot
Pet Shop Boys
Bodies WIthout Organs
Doctor Who
Rumours Of Whores

Seven photographs I took yesterday - on the road, in Newton Stewart and in Dumfries:















Seven ways to say fast:

Quick
Rapid
Dash
Brisk
Race
Posthaste
Hurry

Seven things I can see from my window:

A TV aerial
My hedge
A recycling bin
My car
Clouds
A plank of wood (in the road!)
A young woman with a kiddy in a push chair

I hate it when... (x7):

...I do a poo, stand up and find it's disappeared.
...right wing xenophobes claim to be Christian.
...I have nightmares.
...there is no milk in the fridge.
...a ball of wool I'm using gets knotted up.
...the study gets in an absolute mess.
...the doorbell rings.

The first seven words on page seven of the seventh book on the shelf nearest to me:

"It was cutting me throat what got..."

From Stuart - A Life Backwards by Alexander Masters.

What's in store for us next week, dear reader?

Well, I can safely predict that I'll be going to Japan - but what will YOU be doing?

Daughters

This is Meg.



And this is wee Mary.

They are my daughters.