Hard to thrill, nothin’ really moves me any more, I’m hard to thrill, nothin’ really moves me any more There ain’t nothin’ you can show me that I ain’t seen before

Not strictly true, obvioulsy, but you know what it’s like. You hear something appropriate early in the week, write it down and then you find a discarded e-mail from two years ago (gulp, sob, gulp) and then it suddenly seems sooooooo inappropriate. No. No reason. ūüė¶

So you just go to an album that everyone has on their shelves and end up playing JJ Cale and Eric Clapton and the album The Road to Escondido. Cool, eh?

So only one topic of discussion on everyone’s lips this week.

I enjoyed the first episode of the new Doctor Who more than I expected. If you ignore the monster stuff there is some serioulsy good writing there and some of the opening scenes between the Doctor and young Amy were amazing. It’s the notion of waiting for someone to come back into your life that was interesting. Et moi aussi, mais je peux attendre, clrmnt,¬†seule cinq annees et (then) je suis mort. J’ai une autre idee. Encore une fois.

It’s a rolling five years. Son Brian has latched on to the notion. He likes what I’ve done to the house, but I didn’t like the way he wandered round going, ‘So in five years and two weeks I can put this on the market?’

And in four years, eleven months and three weeks, I’m going to hide two dead fish in this house. Why two, jt?¬†‘Cos he’ll find one, that’s why. That’s why some practising alkies have three bottles on the go.

Quick word on Karen Gillan? Fine. Acted the one look on her face dead good. Alright looking. I just happen to be lucky in that I know a lot of better looking women of similar age, even those who haven’t seen me for some time. Trust me. I am so hot,¬†I am a two bar fire in a student flat. ūüėÄ

Speaking of which, there is to be a meeting of The Great Council this week, but a day later than first intended. Some of those self same women are very difficult to tie down. The cold shower was running as I wrote that.

(This blog will remain a General Election free area btw. Apart from anything else, I have been advised by those who know these things¬†that there will be a shortage of good material come the¬†next General Election in September. And in June,¬†Buck Pal will announce a royal wedding which will take place in November. But I will say the SNP’s Bob Doris buys his round in the pub)

Quick word on Martina Navratilova? Disappointment….at the way her story has been portrayed. I can’t find¬†her using the¬†words ‘battling’ or ‘suffering’ in any of her interviews on the subject of her cancer;

‘I am lucky this (cancer) started in the last year. If it had started before I would have been in deep trouble…….but it is just in one¬†breast and it will be okay.’ Keep it fun, M, keep it fun. So far, so good.

Someone I know was recently told he had prostate cancer. Gleason score? 6/10. There seems to be ample time to decide on treatments available. My Gleason score was 8/10. I was very quickly told I had only two options and we know why I chose the one I did; and it worked. So far, so good. So any doubts, get it checked.

Some woman, Martina,¬†eh? I know I woul….what? You’re kidding? You’ll be telling me next Ricky Martin’s gay. ūüėČ

But can I say that I met a female friend this week also coming through the breast cancer experience (whose husband also reads this) so, unidentified female friend, looking hot…as hot as ….you can guess. (Oh, and easy mistake to make btw. ‘An item’? hahahahahaha…..but I’d love to have heard¬†the explanation)

And on the womanly front, some of you may know (The Vampire Slayer certainly does) that I registered with an online dating service, but never got round to paying the registration fee. It’s not as¬†weird as it sounds. All you get is a profile pic or outline. You can’t make contact unless you pay the fee.

You actually learn a lot more from a¬†Facebook profile. But that does sound weird. So we’ll move swiftly on.

No. The reason I mention it is because with one recent¬†profile pic I was also offered¬†five years’ warranty or three years’ servicing. I had to look several times before I realised it was an advert for a car company. Toyota. Now that is weird, serioulsy sick.

Why didn’t I register? Maybe because I recognised somebody. Albeit unwittingly. But every daughter has a mum.

Moving on……..

To L frae Troon can I just say ‘cupcakes’? And to Jaymi can I just say¬†‘buttered rolls’? Oh, and fish fingers in custard.

(Y’know, once upon a time David Dimbleby read out aloud the words I wrote. Now? ūüė¶ )

And finally, can I say thanks to those who were asking after me following the ‘flakey’ of a couple of weeks ago? I coped, and I note that in my diary for¬†this coming¬†week, I seem to be visiting at least three City Centre bars in as many¬†days. It’s¬† kinda high risk, but I sleep easier at night.

But some questions remain. Like how, in an¬†edition of How I Met Your Mother the other night, did I know which of the Canadian slang for various sexual positions was real slang and what was made up? (‘Sticky flapjacks’ is actual¬†real slang, for example. Now why do flapjacks ring a bell in the history of this blog?)

And why is there a note lying on the floor downstairs that says ‘Lesbian Bondage Fiasco’? Where did that come from? Except it wasn’t actually written in italics.

cya and keep(ing) it fun. I obvioulsy am.


Which kinda reminds me. Tiger Woods. Interesting to see him back and I hope he behaves himself. No. Not the philandering, but actually on the golf course where his spitting, swearing, throwing golf clubs and refusing to sign autographs (I blame indulgent parents, but then I would) has got to stop. He’s not the only pro golfer who behaves like that.

But if you want to know what a sex addiction group is really like, then read Choke by the amazing Chuck Palahnuik. It’s weird. (I’ve got as many books by him as¬†I have albums by Green Day). And this week I’ve been reading Crime by Irvine Welsh which is one of the most disturbing books I’ve ever read.

Maybe that explains a lot. Maybe I should read happy books. Any suggestions? Hand me down my latest Edgar Keret please. 

Lee Westwood’s probably the nicest pro golfer¬†I’ve met in recent years. Wonder what he reads. His musical genre¬†of choice? Aqua-crunk. Mine too.


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