Sunday 29 January 2006

Shit off, Fuckboxes

I've just had a rather shocking experience.

I was just doing some blog browsing and clicked on Tazzy & Piggy's site only to find out that it's closed.

Even though I was a newcomer to their enjoyably insulting and exceedingly rude blog, I felt right at home. They kept me and countless other bloggers suitably entertained and horrified in equal measure. It's strange how people I've never met can have had such an affect.

All I can say is: Shit off, Fuckboxes! I'll miss you. And if this is a joke I'm going to feel like a right tit.

Now, don't anyone else get any ideas about closing down your blogs.

Saturday 28 January 2006

Sigh... Saturday night

I thought about posting something meaningful but it'd take too long. Besides, I've got to get ready to go out.

I know. On a Saturday night.


Much as I'd love to stay in with a bottle or two of wine, the Host wants to drag the old carcass out in the hope of pulling.

Hah! Good luck.

*In normal sad singleton circumstances. Actually, at what age does singletondom stop and spinsterhood begin?

Wednesday 25 January 2006

Victory is mine

Suddenly, everyone's Word Verifications have been attempting to thwart me by squeezing no less than eight (8!) letters together in some miserable, squashy, hard to decipher fonts.

But I vanquished them all.

Victory is mine!

Shit off, Fuckbox

Addendum: I've just learned that my WV has been spewing out filthiness in the form of "jisms" - see previous posts comments.

Shit off, Fuckbox(es - If more than one person reads this [rather lame] post)

Tuesday 24 January 2006

She giveth, but why doesn't she taketh away?

I had a visitor last night. She left me an enormous gift.

When I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror, I saw it.

And saw it and saw it and saw it.

I used to like my visitor. We were nearly even friends. But our relationship did not get past that of contemporary colleagues.

I can only assume she didn't recognise me in my new body.

She was always poor at research.

And now, I've had to live with her gift all day.

Who is she and what did she give me?

Why she's Pustulis Pustulii. Otherwise known as: The Spot Fairy.

You can imagine what she gave me. Right on my forehead.


Sunday 22 January 2006

Neighbourhood Witch

There is a reason for not posting until now, despite the fact that I said in my last post that I would at least twice a week. The reason is this:

I accidently sucked the wand up the Dyson last Sunday.

It got jammed in the cyclotron-thingummydoodah and discharged, releasing magical energy equivalent of a two kilothaum bomb in my dining room! You should have seen the results.

The Dyson's morphogenic field collapsed and it turned into this enormous clattering clank of purple and silver plastic with a tornado up its chute.

After it chased me around the table a couple of times, I managed to shoo it out the back door and lure it down the road to the railway track. On the way it managed to suck up two cats and the screaming toddler from number 64 - why its parents let it wander around in the street at that time in the evening is beyond me. Anyway, at least it got rid of the whining little brat!

Luckily the 19:34 to London was on time and smashed it to smithereens. Although I did notice what looked like a scratched and dusty child and two manky furballs hurtling over the gas works towards Whitlingham Broad when the train hit.

Anyway, that's the reason I haven't posted in a week. Well, That's the cause of the reason. The actual reason was because of *intensive questioning* by the local police. Why the neighbours thought I was responsible I don't know. The fact that I was isn't the point. I would've thought they'd be glad to get rid of that screeching little git...

I've also decided not to give the Host his own profile to post his own point of view - it's too complicated. Instead, I'm going to amalgamate our psyches. It's far less technical although it will sting somewhat.

This just means that you'll have to put up with a slightly schizo me. Or him.

If there's modernisms and vulgar swearing, it's him. If it's eloquent, sophisticated dialogue that's witty and a tad archaic, it's me. Hang on. In actual fact it's probably someone else!

Sunday 15 January 2006

Night flight full of shite

Well. When I got back into the host body I was all ready to give him what for. Fancy being so foulmouthed.

However, his stress levels were so high that I thought it best not to provoke him further. I mean, it's my body, too. So I decided on a soothing night flight above the clouds. It was a full moon and the new bristles for the broom turned up today so it should have been a relaxing, smooth ride...

The operative words being "should have been"...

Lift off was uneventful. The broom started first time and although it didn't soar majestically into the chilly night air, it did rise steadily. The new bristles seemed to have tightened the turning circle too because I didn't clip the cherry tree on the way up. I tried a few little manoeuvers and was pleasantly surprised by the ride and handling. Feeling pleased, I urged the broom skyward, aiming for a break in the clouds so I didn't get wet flying through them.

I'm always stunned by the beauty of seeing clouds from above. It's not often that the broom will oblige such heady altitudes - well, it's not often that it gets new bristles. Kicking it into neutral, I hovered, gazing out at the breathtaking sight of moonlit clouds stretching out around me. I could feel the stress and tension melting away. There were enough gaps to see patches of the city below so I decided on a leisurely circuit of the outskirts before returning home for a hot ginger wine.

While slowly circling the city, I started doing some thinking: I had been doing some cleaning the day before - No, not the house, it cleans itself. The blog - And as I cleaned I thought "I wonder how many people actually read it?" As I was wondering, I got a comment from someone new which surprised me somewhat. Anyway, I got to wondering if it was best to know or be ignorant of such readers.

I decided - well, my curiosity decided for me - that I've got to know. So, I'm going to get a stats counter. Christ only knows how it works or if it'll be any use. I guess I'll soon find out.

I'd been telling myself that I'm doing this (blog) for me, to get me used to writing because, of course, one day I will write a book! Also, as the host seems to come through quite a lot, I'd get him to set up his own profile so that readers can see which of us is posting. I've resolved to post at least twice a week - can't possibly post every day what with being too busy (read: lazy). This resolution is obviously not a New Years one, I want a resolution that will last!
And I must stop using poor Merkin's blog to check who's updated recently and how far down the list I've been pushed because of their selfish updates! I shouldn't care about such things, surely? Shirley? Surly?

I must also work out what this blog can do and try and personalise it a bit more. Don't gear yourself up for any giddy changes, though. It took me until last week just to work out I could have a title field when posting, consequently (consequeyntly - hee hee, this one's for you Tina), I've edited the last few posts to show the proper title and tidy up the PREVIOUS POSTS bit at the side ->.

I'd also quite like to have those comments that pop up on the LINKS to other peoples blogs column. Like at Lee's where if you put the cursor on my name it comes up "Ding Dong". For ages I was really pleased thinking it meant "Ding Dong" as in "Phwoar, he's a bit of a looker". Then I realised it's just the first two words of my title/explanation. Sigh...
And at Merkin's (already done the link up there ^), I come up as "Witch. Polymath. Blogger. A triad of triumphs!". I had to look up the meaning of polymath - a pleasant surprise!

It was at this point, almost home, that a massive clod of bird shit hit me square in the face. Such was my shock that I lost control of the broom and began plummeting to earth. Coughing and spluttering, I pulled the broom up as I hurtled out of the bottom of the clouds, narrowly missing a chimney top.

Eek! The cherry tree!

The broom didn't gain enough altitude and I hurtled into it. As I lay, winded, across two branches, I opened my eyes to see a mouse skull sat upon my cheek. Its little eye sockets staring at me.

Bloody, buggery owls.

Saturday 14 January 2006

He's done it again

I only popped out for a couple of hours: Grandma DeVise is still causing havoc at TGOC Future's. Now I've got to clear up all the host's mess. Again.

I do apologise for the lack of manners and verbal hygiene.

And I didn't do anything to the disk or machine.


Aaaaarrrggghhhh! If that fucking piece of shit doesn't play DVD's anymore why oh fucking why is it called a fucking DVD player? Hmm?

I think Witchface's doing it on purpose. Everytime I have some time to myself that fucking machine plays up. Fuck!

I only wanted to watch Underworld. The first 40 minutes weren't even that good. I like something a bit more subtle. Something a bit more realistic. None of the vampires or lycans (as the film calls them) I know behave like that...

We are not amused


Leave the host to his own devices for one night and look what happens.


We are not amused. There really is no excuse. He should have a better grasp of the English language. Or, a better grasp on his temper. Now that I'm back*, I'll get a better grasp of him!

* I'd only gone Out Of Body to visit my grandmother, Rosecrypt DeVise. She passed over grumbling and complaining years ago, cantankerous old biddy, and I got a message from TGOC Future that she'd spectralised in his airing cupboard. Honestly, it was like prying a limpet from a rock trying to get her out of there. And I had to wash all his towels because she'd left great swathes of ectoplasm over them. Shame there isn't a spectral type of colostomy bag...

Thursday 12 January 2006

The most stressful two hours of my life

Gaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fucking fuck fuck fuck. Fucking piece of crap! Why must everything be so fucking shit?!


* deep inhalation of calming, calming air *

I'd sat down to watch Millenium, which arrived in the post yesterday. I'd been looking forward to this all day. It's one of my favourite 80's films. I had a glass of sauvignon blanc and a sticky toffee pudding with Sainsbury's Taste the Difference custard. A perfect evening.

Or so I thought.

The disk started to skip bits of the film. Calmly, I skipped back and watched them, not being too concerned because I'd seen the film loads of times before, but it would've been nice to watch without any interruptions. Then came chapter 11.

Bloody bollocky shitting queynting fucking chapter 11 to give it its proper name.

It skipped and skipped and skipped, so much so that I thought I'd gone back in time myself to the school playground where girls, effeminate boys (i.e. me) and skipping ropes abounded.
No matter how many times I tried skipping forwards then backwards, pausing, stopping restarting, taking the fucking disk out of the Christing machine, turning it off, reloading, kicking it across the room (I didn't really do that last kicking bit) and checking the disk for microscopic traces of dust or grime then carefully wiping it and blowing into the arsing machine, it still. Didn't. WORK!

Bastarding fucking Christing Hell!

Hmmm... I feel marginally better.

* Thank you S.I.D. at Tina's.

Monday 9 January 2006

I should have seen it coming

"Couldn't you have forseen this?" I asked, somewhat petulantly. Seer looked indignant as I glared at him.

"I did" he exclaimed. "Why do you think I gasped and gripped you tighter?"

Bugger. I thought it was because he had a thing for me.

After disentangling ourselves from the brambles that had very kindly broken our fall, we glared at each other until Dragon landed nearby.

"You burped?" I asked incredulously. She carried on looking sheepish and started wrapping her tail around her wrist in nervousness.

At that moment, Knight (of the naked variety) bounded up, clipboard in hand. He looked like he was smirking but I couldn't tell for sure because it was dark. And my contact lenses were a bit gummy due to the wind streaming into my eyes during our plummet to earth.

" You were doing quite well until Dragon's bout of wind" he stated, staring directly at me, his face now impassive. Damn he was good.

"Of course I was doing well" I almost shrieked. "I'd've been bloody brilliant if it wasn't for her" and I spun on my heels to point an accusing finger at Dragon. Rudely.

"You realise that's the kind of thing we're training for" he replied somewhat patronisingly. "You need to be prepared. I mean, what did you expect when being chased by a dragon?" Good God he was infuriating! "For Christ's sake, you've got Seer as a passenger. He should've had his precognition switched on. And you're a bloody witch" - that much was true. I was covered with scratches and cuts from the brambles - "you ought to have known something was up." He tutted and started marking the paper on his clipboard.

"You try evading that loony on this" - and I shook the blackened broom at him - "thing! Look at the bristles. Just look! It'll take ages for replacements to be zeppelined in from Tartarus*."

Knight just looked at me with thinly disguised contempt. Just as he turned away, he winked, instantly making me even more angry and turning me on something chronic.

The (sexy) bastard!

* Not its original name. Tired of being instantly forgotten because of its (deserved) reputation as the most boring place on earth, the denizens of Fakenham changed its name to Tartarus in 1999, not realising (i.e. being ignorant) the Hellish connection. To this day, tortured souls turn up only to be bored senseless by the town and its inhabitants. Maybe the real Tartarus was full and this was at the end of the spillway...

Thursday 5 January 2006

The Flight Crew - Air stewards need not apply

Oof! Sorry, just got back from arial manoueuvers with the Supernaturals. Well, not all of them as only Dragon can fly (her that torched my best tupperware).

The Lady can levitate a bit but she doesn't like to as she's a bit wobbly and doesn't want to ruin her poise and grace. And when she does get airbourne she's more than a bit rubbish as she can't do changes of direction easily. Or changes in altitude. Or velocity. Basically, she can get about 10 feet off the ground before she becomes afflicted with vertigo and the constant thought that people are trying to look up her dress at her drawers.

Anyway, I was supposed to see how well I could manoueuver on the broom with a passenger while being pursued by a threat force, i.e. Dragon acting like a loony (which isn't difficult). My passenger was Seer. He's a nice boy. Something of a precognitive. It's handy to have him around because even though I can see into the future, I generally need something reflective like a mirror or a bowl of water and ink or, at a push, a shiny chocolate wrapper. He can do it without props. And he says he gets a clear image. Not like when I do it - it's like looking through a damn kaleidoscope!

We were doing quite well for a while. His strong hands gripping me around my waist as we chicaned through some trees, hoping to lose Dragon who was in hot pursuit. Suddenly, he gave a little gasp and I felt his hands spasm around me. This was closely followed by a blast of hot, noxious air. I turned to see his eyes screwed tightly shut and his skin looking a little green.

Then I saw the broom's bristles on fire! It lurched beneath us before losing altitude at an alarming rate. As we plummeted groundwards, Dragon, who was treading air, had her hand over her mouth and an apologetic look on her face.

"I burped. Sorry".