Look at the shiny new buttons!

If you like this please share it using the shiny new buttons I found. Can't you just tell technology baffles me! I can't believe 233 people have read my blog. Mind you it's probably just my mum reading to find out what I've been up to so she can berate me for not contacting her more and for being a very bad girl. Sorry mum.

Chapter one. The shallow man with the big cock.

I'm such a bad blogger, over two months since I last posted but I have just been having too much fun. I do have a story to tell though.

I don't think I told you about Biker Guy. Some of you know but anyway, there was this guy who I saw when I first got to the island. I was at Regs Garden watching some music in the sunshine and I noticed this guy sitting there who piqued my interest a little. Being a massive scaredy cat I did nothing and fantasied about him for about 6 months romanticising what could have been if I hadn't been such a yellow belly.

6 months later I am at a bar watching Rick Jones do his thing (he's a singer and guitar player by the way not a Chippendale although maybe he could work that into his act and give the bored housewives of the rock some extra entertainment. I might mention that next time I see him. Or maybe not) anyway, watching Rick and go to get a beer at the bar and who is stood in front of me? If you didn't guess Biker Guy (who we will now refer to as BG) then you are stupid and need to go and do some brain training and come back when you have more brain cells. If you thought "BG" then well done you, you can keep reading cos it gets better.

I do a bit of a double take because you know it's been 6 months and I want to be really sure that it's him but yup it really is and then I panic. "What to do now?" I ask myself. No, not out loud as that's a good way to get sectioned but in my weird head. I do the only thing I can do which is text Josephina something along the lines of; "OMG BG is here. What do I do?"

She text back something unhelpful like "Er, say hello"

I mean if I could do that I wouldn't have needed to ask for help in the first place would I because that would mean I was one of those confident girls who can just go up and say hi to guys in bars. That's quite a lot to put in a text so I just put "I can't do that" and she started texting back equally unhelpful suggestions such as "say that's a nice jumper, it would look better on my floor" and such like.

By the time I had realised that Josephina was going to be of no help whatsoever, Hamster had started a drunken conversation with him. Not as helpful as you might think seeing as Hamster is one of those girls that men just fall over themselves to get to. She has men falling at her feet when ever we go out. We can't venture anywhere without mens jaws hitting the floor, coming up to chat and going all gooey eyed at her. It's not just that she's pretty with big boobies (which are about the same as mine I reckon) it's just that she has this quality. I can't put my finger on it but if we could bottle it, we would make a fucking fortune

Anyway, I manage to get into a conversation with BG and somehow the conversation turns to kung fu and karate and debating which one is better. I maintain that I prefer karate but he's of the "I like kung fu" school of thought. I think I probably said something like kung fu's rubbish, karate's better (yes I know, scintillating conversation but I was about 4 pints in by this point) and that I missed karate because I didn't know anyone on the rock who did the style that I like. To which he replied that he knew someone who taught karate and he would check which style it was.

We're getting a bit bogged down in detail at the moment so I'll just say that it was the style I liked and he gave the number of the instructor. So we chat for a bit longer, all the while Mr. Jones is still doing his thing, oblivious of the drama in the corner and I ask if he's going to the rock night after and he says "Fuck yeah!" A bit too enthusiastically for my liking so I ask if he's being sarcastic and he's all like "No way, I love rock night" so I say"great, that's where we're going you want to walk with us?" or something like that. So at the end of Ricks set (which was awesome, as ever) we set off, a little drunken quintet, me trying not to appear too drunk and attempting some normal conversation so I can come across as alluring and potential girlfriend material to BG.

Needless to say, this doesn't work as we split off into our original groups once we get to the rock night but in spite of this I have a great night dancing to some decent music for the first time since I came to the rock. Before I know it, it's the end of the night and I am pretty much twatted and it seems like a good idea to stay behind after my friends leave because I haven't got BG yet and being an only child not getting what I want doesn't sit well with me. So I drunkenly jabber away to him, God only knows what I was wittering about but it worked as we left together arm in arm, got into a taxi and went back to my house.



Anyway, in the morning he went all weird saying he was to old for me which was strange as he didn't even know how old I was and that he'd just got out of a big relationship and blah blah blah. So I just said "relax please, lets keep this in perspective. Lets have a bit of fun and see what happens" and by that I meant lets keep having fun and see where it leads not that was great see you around sometime but being hungover and tired I couldn't articulate that.

So he left and I spent the next few days boring my friends to death with "Why didn't I give him my number?" conversations. In the end Hamster said "why don't you try and find him on facebook?" This is where it might get a little stalkerish.

I already knew his name (which I am not going to divulge here just in case he reads this which is highly unlikely but not outside the realms of possibility) which I got from the karate instructor guy so I did what any self respecting stalker does and typed his name into facebook and sent him the following message:

• Please read, if anything it'll give you a giggle...
  Hi, I realise this could come across as quite stalkerish but I have a reasonable explanation: I was messaging .... about the Karate and mentioned that some guy called BG had given me his number and I hoped that he didn't mind and he asked "BG who?" So I said "I dunno, tall guy, long hair, glasses..." and he said "Oh it must be ..... cos that's the only BG I know"
  
  So I mulled this over for a while and thought that actually I hadn't made that good a first impression and seeing as I don't go out all that often it wasn't likely that I would get a second chance so I thought I'd look you up on Facebook, yes I know that's where it gets a little stalkeresque but I firmly believe that we regret the actions that we didn't take rather than the actions that we did so even though your Facebook profile is locked up tighter than a nuns knickers I thought I'd send the message anyway.
  
  (By the way, if you're not the guy I met on Saturday night, could you stop reading now? I'd like my humiliation to be contained to the right person!)
  
  Anyway, I know that I said it's just a bit of fun when you were getting all self deprecating and I meant that but it came out a bit wrong. What I meant was; can we forget(ish) what happened Saturday night and start over, sober. I'd really like to get to know you better and see how it goes. I'm not saying I want a serious relationship or anything like that cos if it transpires that once we get to know one another it's the wrong thing, then I know I won't have any regrets.
  
  So...if you fancy meeting for a coffee (actually tea) sometime then give me a text on (put my number but you're not getting it)
  
  
  And if this has weirded you out, don't worry, I'm much better with the written word than I am at actually saying the words out loud so chances are, if you don't reply then I would never say anything to you if I see you again anyway.
  
  Sorry, realise that was a bit of an epic but I do tend to ramble if left to my own devices. It could have been much worse!
  See, not too bad, fairly light hearted and breezy!
  I waited a few days and no reply and although I am a self confessed pessimist most of the time I get quite optimistic about my love life. It's quite pitiful really. A bit like a puppy that gets kicked all the time and then one day gets given a piece of cheese and spends the rest of the time getting kicked and wondering when the next piece of cheese is coming. So I think to myself "OK maybe he didnt' get the message, maybe he doesn't go on facebook that often. Some people actually have a life and others don't have a computer so maybe he hasn't read it yet.
  To me, not replying to a message is complete anathema to my soul (is that the right word?) Anyway, I just don't get it, if someone has taken the time to compose a message to you be it a letter, an e mail or a text, it just seems like the height of rudeness not to acknowledge it even if it's to say "sorry you remind me of the beast of Brighton and I would never go for coffee with you even if you were the last hairy back on earth" I mean that would hurt but at least you'd know right?. It would be like ripping of a plaster, quick and stings like fuck but once the stinging fades you get right back on that bike until the next owie. Probably not the best metaphor but I digress again.
  
  OK, now this is actually where it gets slightly stalkerish but again, if he had just answered my message it wouldn't have driven me insane. An unanswered message is one of the most irritating things ever. Even a message with bad spelling and grammar would be better than no message:
  
  "i h8 u fk of n dy"
  
  Again, at least you'd know. Anyway, I decide to go and find him because I know where he teaches some of his crappy kung fu so I go and wait outside his class and to say that he looked shocked to see me there is another understatement but all I wanted to was to get to know him a bit better, go for a drink and find out a bit more about him. It may have turned out that after a few meetings he was the most boring man on the planet but at least you'd know! That's what I hate, the not knowing. I also wanted to make a better first impression. I hate meeting people when I'm drunk because it gives entirely the wrong impression. I come across as a real fun loving happy go lucky party girl which is so not me. I'm one of the most cynical pessimists you'll ever meet. Hamster has been trying to teach me to be more optimistic but it's not working so far and I doubt it ever will.
  
  I mean, yes I like to go out and have drink but I would much rather sit in with someone who I love most of the time (tolerate the rest), cook a nice dinner, have some wine and watch supernatural while they make as many cups of tea as I like providing witty banter and "in" jokes but when you've only just moved somewhere how else are you supposed to meet people if you don't go out once in a while?
  
  I'm not a party girl. I write in a diary for gods sake! I write poetry, I have scars on my body that can't be explained in a rational way, I'm much deeper than I come across if you meet me when I'm drunk but do you think I could find the words to convey this to BG? Nope. Written word I can do, spoken word, forget it. Tongue tied, gibbering fool.
  
  Anyway, to draw this epic to a close, I asked him out, he said no giving some lame ass excuse like; I'm too old, I have no money, I'm an angry man blah blah blah. In essence he'd made a snap judgement on me and wasn't prepared to find out if his preconceptions were right which I somehow don't think they are which means he's just a shallow man with a big cock.
  
  Shame.
  
  
  

It sucks to be a woman

It sucks to be a woman

I think you will agree

that a lot of what we go through 

seems un-necessary.

It starts quite early on

with the development of tits

and the school shirt you started with

no longer really fits.

Your Dad gets quite embarrassed

When you ask "what's going on?"

He gets all red faced and mumbles

stuff like "Go and ask your Mum"

 Your Mums not any better

She just shoves you in the car

after hugging you triumphantly

Shrieking "Lets go and buy a bra!"

We march with purpose through Tyrell and Green

through an unknown world of silk and lace

where woman in suits carry tape measures

and have too much make up on their face.

Then we get to periods

almost as awkward to say as go through

As like countless times before

you go and sit innocently on the loo

and the bog roll comes away bloody 

and you think you're going to die

and wonder do I call for help

or just sit here and cry?

You opt for the middle ground

stuffing paper down your keks

as you roll into a little ball

sobbing, trying to catch your breath.

Your Dad comes banging on the door

wondering what the hell you've done.

You tell him you're bleeding profusely

He says "I'll go and get your Mum"

Your Mum mops away your tears

And tells you you'll be fine

and that you're going to bleed like this

every month til the end of time

or at least until the menopause

when everything dries up

which is information overload

and you run to the sink to upchuck.

She then brings out a box

of the most enormous pads,

tells you to put it in your knickers

and then pull up your pants.

 It's like having a giant mattress

stuffed between your legs.

You're walking like John Wayne

wondering when it's going to end.

Then we get to dating

when we finally notice boys

but have to compete for their affections

with their silly little toys.

And then we finally pick one

that we actually like,

we spend our time obsessing,

asking questions through the night.

"Will he call or won't he?"

"Why did he say he would?"

"Why didn't he take my number,

when it's obvious he should?"

 

And when he finally calls

You're as happy as can be

You stay together through the years

'til he gets on bended knee

and asks for your hand in marriage,

for you to be his wife

and then you have to plan

the biggest day of your life!

You have to sort the venue,

the catering and the dress.

You have to sort the quarrels

and social rifts between the guests.

You have to stop the mothers'

muscling in on your big day

and keep the peace with everyone

who wants to have their say.

And then the day arrives

you're so nervous you could be sick

and pray that after all those fittings

the bloody dress still fits,

After the wedding comes babies

and you fight over one or two

and the first one is on it's way 

so there's nothing you can do.

Your water breaks on your new rug

The labour pains have started.

And you wonder if you shit yourself

when you accidentally farted.

Everyone tells you to breathe

and that you'll be just fine

but you growl and hiss and spit and swear

that this will be the last time

"You ever get your hands on me,

you total fucking cunt!"

As the watermelon sized baby

comes out a pea sized hole with a grunt.

Your pelvis splits, your fanny rips

with legs in stirrups, spread wide.

As you look down on that tiny face

and your insides burst with pride.

And then you have to watch 

while that bundle of joy grows up

and you'll teach her that being a woman

doesn't actually suck that much.

Karma tip number one

Writers block

I wrote this when I was about fifteen which is why it sounds really twee!


I want to write a poem
but I don't know where to start.
It's got to be something meaningful,
something straight from my heart.
It could be about the birds,
the way they nest in trees.
Or it could be about a summers day,
crowded and gleeful with bees,
humming in the air above,
going about their chores.
Or it could be about a lion
and the mighty way it roars.
It could be about nature in general,
the way mother earth spreads her wares,
or the way children play
with no tension, worries or cares.
It could be about myself
but that would be way too dull
everyone else does that anyway
so I don't think that I shall.
It could be about the moon
playing with the sea
shining big and bright and proud
in the sky for everyone to see.
It could be about the stars
outshone by the moon.
Or the ever impending daylight
that covers them too soon.
I think that this is enough
for someone with writers block
I think I've done quite well
and written quite a lot.

I fecking hate traffic wardens!!

I realise this is yet another rant but I believe people will be with me on this one.
Traffic wardens. What in the world posseses someone to go into this profession? I mean, the whole world hates traffic wardens. If I were talking to someone in a bar and they revealed that they were a traffic warden that would be it. I don't even think I would finish my pint. Just tip it over their head and get the hell out of there. It would definitely be a deal breaker for a prospective boyfriend. Checklist: Own teeth? Yup. Doesn't live with parents? Check. No past criminal convictions? Hmmm depends what they were but ok. Job? Traffic warden? Nope not even worth a sympathy throw down. Not even if they looked like Johnny Depp and that's saying something!
I just got a ticket whilst I was at a free CPD evening learning about how better to care for peoples pets and I get outside and have a fixed penelty notice stuck to my car. At nine o clock at night! Seriously! Do these people have nothing better to do? There were loads of spaces and it wasn't even as if I was parked in a disabled bay! Nine o clock at night and I get a parking ticket. Maybe if the world wasn't so anti traffic warden, they wouldn't stick these things on our cars as they would have friends, a girlfriend, a life of their own and parties to go to. As it is, because of the profession they have chosen, they have a lot of free time to go wandering the streets when they should be parked in front of the tv with their significant other and a bottle of wine.
Maybe we should start a hug a traffic warden campagne where one day a year we're all super nice to a traffic warden. We have to hug them, ask how their life is and pretend to be interested in their lonely, tv dinner for one, talking to their cat life. "Thankyou mr/mrs traffic warden for this spectacular waste of money you have just stuck on my car. I'm going to show you the love and affection you are missing from your sad pathetic little life so that you can see what you're missing out on for the rest of the year."
Then we send them on their way, pondering their chosen career path. It'll either make them so sad that they are missing out on the wonders of love that they hand their notice in the next day screaming "love me, love me, I need to be loved!" or they'll be so depressed that they kill themselves. Either way; less traffic wardens. Win.

Always ranting.

Today I've been nursing some really lovely animals, some very smoochy cats (until I tried to take out his IV line!) and a beautiful dog who is the ideal patient. I've had to inject him so many times but he's still as loving as ever.
People on the other hand......
Well, I'll start with the band I tried out for. Went to meet these guys a couple of weeks ago and sang some songs to see if they were interested in having me sing in their band. I thought it went quite well to be honest and truth be told I was more concerned with the actual audition. I thought that even if they say no, at least I would have tried which is all you can do really isn't it? I could always delude myself into thinking that it was because I wasn't right for the band! Nothing to do with my singing hahaha. But instead of saying "Ally, it just isn't going to work out, you're singing sounds to me like cats being strangled by a giggling hobo, we're going to keep looking" he (the band guy) decides to ignore me! I mean how rude is that?
At any other point in my life I might have got upset over this but after losing Wayne I've decided I'm not going to sweat the small stuff. This guy obviously needs to strap on a pair and say what he really thinks and is that really any concern of mine? Not really.
Another example is a girl I met when I first moved over here. It was my first saturday night in Jersey and I thought "Ok, I wouldn't usually sit in by myself on a saturday night so I'm not going to start now! Also, I'm not going to make any new friends or have any fun if I don't get out there" so I put on my best clobber which in hindsight was not a good idea as I've now discovered Jersey is not ready for new rock boots and dred falls but anyway, I met this girl and we started chatting and she asked for my phone number and suggested that we meet up for some karaoke.
"Awesome!" I think "Well that was easy"
So I text her as planned the following monday to go to karaoke and do you think I got a reply? Did I fu@k!
If they had been the only two isolated cases then I would have put it down to bad luck. You know, trust me to meet the only two jack asses on Jersey but no! This seems to be an affliction affecting most of the population of Jersey! I think that it's only a matter of time before everyone succumbs to this disease that must waste the fingers of your hands away so that texting or lifting anything heavier than Jodie kidds big toe is virtually impossible. It must also affect their typing skills as well. Maybe they lose the bones in their fingers so that any kind of organised movement is just impossible. Maybe I should send flowers? Or a get well card?

My dred falls and a very happy face. Slightly emo I feel. Sorry bout that.

My beautiful New Rocks! Yes I realise that my tights blend in with the carpet but it wasn't planned just a happy coincidence.