Petrol, Beauty. Oxymoron?

A petrol leak in a car park on a rainy day.

How can something so damaging to the environment, so harmful and poisonous, something that pollutes our world and condemns our future generations, how can something so awful be so… beautiful?


The Assassination of Radio.

I would just like to publicly announce my displeasure that it is now acceptable to use the word ass on the radio.

Not so long ago I remember words like ass would be bleeped out in songs on BBC Radio 1, and the radio DJs certainly wouldn’t be saying it.. But now that’s just not the case. ‘Clean’ versions of songs have the main swear words edited over, but now it’s completely okay to have a clean version of a song containing ‘less severe’ swear words like ass.

Yesterday the daytime DJs on Radio 1 had a conversation in between songs about if men prefer breasts or asses more.

Since when has this been okay?

Personally, I don’t actually have a problem with swearing. I mean I don’t encourage it or anything, but I’m certainly as guilty of it myself as the next person is. But however hypocritical that might seem, I would never swear publicly, and certainly not in front of a child.

Quite simply, I wouldn’t want my children in the future to be hearing words like that, words that they would be told off if they repeated at school, used in such a casual way every day on the radio.

Maybe I’m starting to sound like an old lady, but I genuinely think it’s quite sad that mainstream media has really started to crumble into vulgarity, not simply for entertainment, but for general conversation. And this is coming from an 18 year old who actually listens to stuff on mainstream radio for enjoyment. I can’t imagine what the older generation thinks of it.

As I said, I don’t really have a problem with it myself, but young children hear stuff and think it’s okay, even normal, to speak that way. And it isn’t. At least not when you’re that young.

I just think loss of innocence comes way too early in life now. Childhood is becoming shorter and shorter. When I was 10 years old, I was wearing dungarees, playing with dolls, and all boys had boygerms and shouldn’t be touched. Now I’m seeing more and more 10 year olds wearing short skirts and lipgloss, and having mobiles, boyfriends, and eating disorders.

Anyway, rant over.

I’d love to hear your opinion on this one. Do you agree?

Kitty Mischief.

Photos below: Casper playing with his Christmas present!

It’s so wonderful to have bought Casper something that he actually plays with. More often than not, he either ignores any presents I give him, or uses them for something completely different.

To list just a few..

  • A special ‘igloo’ indoor bed that we bought him, because he is forever hiding inside things.
    He never once went inside, and instead slept on top of it.
  • Catnip bubbles.
    He drank them.
  • Deluxe scratch post with a hiding box at the bottom, and a bed at the top.
    He ignored everything apart from the corners, of which he chewed to pieces. (To be fair, he did occasionally using the scratch post. But still.)
  • A cat lead. I thought I’d get one on the off chance he’d like it.
    He didn’t.
  • A treat dispensing toy. The idea was that the cat plays with the toy, rolling it on the floor and moving it around, and you’d fill it with treats which would fall out when the toy was being played with.
    Casper was completely disinterested, turning his nose up and refusing to even try it out.
  • A wind up mouse.
    He merely gave it the evil eye and flounced off.
  • However, as soon as something isn’t a toy, and isn’t meant for kitties, I have Casper’s full attention. Any piece of string, any plastic bag, any cardboard box. He’s in there like a flash, merrily playing away, hiding in the box, chasing normal (i.e. toxic) bubbles, playing around with the treat box to try to open it and get some treats.. The list is endless.

    I guess cats will be cats. They’re much like kids in this sense – a lot of children would have more fun making a big old cardboard box into a rocket, at virtually no cost, than one of those big expensive plastic cars you can buy for kids nowadays.

    Anyway, Casper actually likes his latest Christmas present! (A furry rustle sack, see A little late for festivities, but..) However, he hasn’t quite grasped the fact that he’s supposed to go in it, not on it. Either way, he’s interested enough in it, which makes me happy. :)

    What a wonderful fluffy nuisance he is.


    P.S. It seems I may have become a ‘crazy cat lady’. I do waaaay too many posts about Casper. Apologies. :)

    They who drink beer will think beer.

    Beer is the world’s most widely consumed alcoholic beverage. It is the third most popular drink overall.. after water and tea.

    However.. I have a theory. It is as follows:

    No guy actually likes beer.

    It is so unbelievably vile, and I refuse to believe that it can genuinely be enjoyed by anyone.

    Here’s how it goes in society:

  • Young guys go to the pub and drink beer to feel older, and more grown up. They have their first beer, and are shocked at the horrific taste. But they are being older and grown up, they have to finish it. It would be socially unacceptable not to. They force themselves to down it, and as the alcohol works its magic they find themselves ordering another. They feel manly, and part of the crowd. It’s just about worth it.
  • Older and more grown up guys still go to the pub and still drink beer, but now they do it to feel young again. It’s a habit now. Their taste buds are mostly dead. It doesn’t taste so bad now. They sit with their pub friends and reminisce about old times. Beer has been there for them through it all.
  • All men, no matter which of the above category they fit, drink beer and hate it. True, they become more tolerant of it, and it eventually doesn’t make them want to chuck up their insides as much as it used to, but perhaps that’s because the alcohol tolerance has gone up too.

    Their fathers drunk beer, and so did their fathers’ fathers, and fathers’ fathers’ fathers.. And so they will influence their sons to drink beer. It’s part of life.

    And to all you who still think you like beer. You don’t. You have simply been brainwashed from an early age into forcing yourself into thinking it tastes nice. Maybe you didn’t even realise at the time, but if you really think back to your first beer, let’s be honest.. you hated it.


    Losing individuality.

    “I’m not like most girls.”
    – most girls.

    An amusing and unsettlingly true observation.

    We all think of ourselves as unique, special, different from everyone else. But we ALL think this. Therefore, putting ourselves in the same boat as everyone else.

    Derren Brown did a very interesting experiment recently, based on the concept of Cold Reading – more specifically, the Forer Experiment. He took a small group of random people he had never met before, and through them simply writing their name and date of birth on a piece of paper, he appeared to write a personalised description of each person, their darkest fears, their social status, their hidden thoughts, dreams, desires, and anticipations.

    Each person read their descriptions, and could not believe how accurate Derren had been. They commented on how he highlighted aspects of their personality that were so unique and individual to themselves. They were asked to rate the overall accuracy of the statement, and each person rated incredibly high, many unable to find a single incorrect observation.

    Derren then got each person to swap descriptions with each other.

    All of the descriptions were the same.

    I read the text that he used for everyone, and true enough, I found myself completely relating to it.. it was like it was written for me, and me alone. I literally couldn’t, and still can’t, believe that anyone else could feel like I do!

    Derren even cleverly wrote to everyone at the end, “It’s very interesting doing your reading in particular, as you present something of a conundrum, which won’t surprise you.”

    We all think ourselves so unique, so different from any other. We feel cheated by the idea that we think and feel in the same way. You feel cheated, don’t you.

    I bet you’re sat there thinking, “Oh, I bet it wouldn’t relate to me. I’m different.” But I thought the same as you. The sad truth is, you are the same as me, and everyone else on this planet.

    Yeah. I don’t like that either.

    I guess we all spend so much time trying to make ourselves stand out, but it doesn’t make any difference, because we’re ALL doing it!

    Either way, I’d still like to think I’m different from everyone else.

    A photo of me when I was little below. I challenge you sit there and tell me that there’s someone else out there who was so goddamned cute as a kid.

    Seeeeeeeeee. I am different! ;)


    Friction between the sheets..

    Mature audience required for this post.

    Call me sick-minded, nit-picking, or just plain observant, but I’ve noticed a bit of a lyrical topic trend for our young male singers out there..

    Ejaculation issues.

    Firstly, we have the obvious; Jon Lajoie with his blunt song entitled “I Come Too Fast”. But then he’s the guy who brought us “Show Me Your Genitals”. I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t shy away from explicitly blunt songs. But it’s all in a sarcastic, comedic manner, so we can just about excuse him. (Hopefully you can just about excuse this post too, for the same reasons.)

    More surprisingly however, is the lads who we least expect being a disappointment in the fornication department. “Clockwatching” is an upbeat acoustic feel-good song by Jason Mraz (who just happens to be my lyrical hero and soul-soother), and it seems like an innocent enough song at first. But listening to the lyrics more closely, we realise he’s revealing some rather intimate home-truths.. “I’m off like an airplane, I’m licking your postage stamp again. I’m using my right brain and I’m praying that we don’t crash.. Who knew I’d come so fast? Well so what if a two-pump chump can’t last?”

    Sorry.. what??!

    And then, even worse perhaps, we hear the likes of Ed Sheeran, our most-loved musical ginger genius, describing his stamina problems in the trouser department. “I came fast, with the way I act, right, I can’t last if I’m smoking on a crack pipe.”

    True as this may be – it doesn’t take a genius to know that long-term coke addicts can experience some pretty bad sexual dysfunction (so don’t try drugs at home, kids..) – but is it really necessary for him to explain this to us? I think not Mr. Sheeran!

    I can perhaps.. possibly.. maybe understand the young male artists of today doing the complete opposite, and boasting about their multitude of notches on the bedpost, and their outstanding endurance achievements. Interestingly enough and contrary to Ed Sheeran, who unfortunately struggles with his performance when under the influence, it seems Drake likes to think it improves his stamina. “Good weed, white wine, I come alive in the nighttime”. Most likely it was during the daytime that he wrote the song.

    But even Pitbull, yummy yummy Pitbull (possibly the most vile-looking artist of today), even Pitbull “makes love” to us “endlessly”. Aren’t we lucky. Excuse me while I vom.

    The reason why I can possibly understand and perhaps even sympathise with these men, is because these poor guys have very small members. Very small. And they need to compensate for their very small members. They do this by writing an explicitly sexual song in which they play the lead role, such as Jeremiah who describes how he is “grinding with passion.. been at it for hours” . Later, he modestly informs the lucky girl, “I’m more than able to please you”. It’s highly unlikely that after hours of endless passion you would need to inform your partner that you were able to please them. They probably should have picked up on that bit themselves. So, we can draw the conclusion that either:

    a) He’s dating a big-boobed-blonde-haired bimbo who is somehow unable to realise when she’s had a ‘big O’ and needs to be told (no offence intended to the few who fit that description)..


    b) He’s so desperate to hide from his very small member and the fact that he cannot please a woman, that he creates a song for the nation filled with a bunch of lies about his non-existent sexual abilities.

    These guys are what I describe as Egos. They don’t have a life, a body, a job, a girlfriend, a passion, or a talent. They only have an Ego. (Just remember girls, the club cant handle Flo Rida.)

    So.. Let’s think about this.. If these Egos need to boast about their super-human bonking abilities simply because they don’t have any.. Does that mean our guys Ed and Jason actually have these abilities, and therefore are required to modestly ‘pretend’ they don’t??

    I certainly hope so.

    But perhaps I’m looking too far into this. Perhaps Ed was innocently talking about ‘coming quickly’ into the music industry, and how you simply ‘cannot last for long’ in said music industry if you take drugs. And perhaps Jason really is licking the back of the queen’s head, in a totally non-sexual way, before sending a love-letter to his fully satisfied woman. And this ‘two-pump chump’ that he talks about is simply a foolish guy he knows, working in a bar, who has two beer pumps that don’t last very long. Okay, we’re stretching it a bit far now.

    But come on. These are young guys. Probably still young enough to chuckle anytime the word “come” is mentioned, still young enough to shout “YA MUM” at (in)appropriate intervals. They know exactly what they’re saying.

    Lads. Thank you for your music. We love hearing your lovely voices.
    We don’t, however, want to hear about your sexual stamina (or lack of it), your ability (or disability) to please a woman, or how drugs affect your performance.

    Thank you.

    I love you, Mr. Thumb!

    “I want you to remember me, I’m leaving my fingerprints.. on you.”


    I have hitchhiker thumbs. Apparently only 25% of the population does, so I feel somewhat special.

    When I was little I taped my thumbs to my palms, to see what it would be like not to have any, and to see how long I could cope without them. Despite my optimistic “thumbless week” intentions, it was so difficult that I didn’t actually last the remainder of the day. (I also remember when I was about 7 seeing how long I could keep pigtails in my hair, but after a week of washing around the pigtails, mum insisted that they come out. I was devastated, I had big plans for the Guinness Book of World Records, but that’s another story..)

    Never underestimate the power or importance of thumbs.

    Without them, we could never have sucked our thumbs as babies. As children, we would only have been able to count to 8. Classroom games and rhymes wouldn’t be the same – ‘heads down, thumbs up’ would be unachievable, ‘5 little speckled frogs’ would be no more. We couldn’t hitch a lift. We’d always have to SAY ‘well done’ or ‘that’s right’, instead of happily giving a thumbs up. We couldn’t snap our fingers to music, or send a text message with one hand, or flip a coin, or flick a lighter, or add ‘a pinch’ of salt to our food. Typing speed would be dramatically reduced; hitting the space bar would involve another finger. Zipping a zip, buttoning a button, drawing a picture, lacing up shoes, brushing your teeth; daily tasks would be virtually impossible. Even a simple high-5 would involve both hands.

    I might try the taped thumbs again.. See how long I’d last this time..