MoJoGo!

2010-07-07, 11:08 p.m.
To the guy I just saw thumbing a lift when I went to pick Treacle up from dance lesson:

Dear Hitcher

You seem respectable enough, even with your shaven head and your tattoos and I really hope that somebody stopped and gave you a lift. If they didn�t, there may be a reason for that. I would suggest that, if you must carry something when hitching, make it a stack of Gideon�s Bibles, a delicate looking chocolate gateaux, or perhaps a sleeping, golden-haired, winsome child, cradled gently in your arms.

If you absolutely MUST be carrying something, make it NOT a crate of Stella (with one can already opened in your hand).

Just a thought..
Love Stepfie


Look! Look Everyone! Its meeeee, just a mere two days after my last entry, Im back with another one.

Be amazed. Be, like, so amazed that your mouth goes opencloseopencloseopenclose like a big ole fishy.

You know what it is? I was searching through some old archives, looking for a entry I wrote a quintillion years ago when I was young and carefree and I was SO surprised at how�umm...young and carefree I was, and at how much fun I was having, writing about shagging and drinking and being in love and finding stuff funny and larking about and generally NOT writing about moany stuff. Like what I do now.

Since when did bitching about stuff become more important than glittery knickers?

Since NEVER ack-chew-leeee.

Tut tut tut. There seems to be something of a dearth of Mojo about The Palace of Many Sins. And its not just my inability to write anything more riveting than a list of stuff I need to get at B & Q. Even L, who is normally so Shagadelic that he makes Austin Powers look positively papal, is mojo-bereft a.t.m. and is moping about it in a most uncharacteristic fashion. I think he thinks his willy is broke. Ive naturally told him not be so fucking over-dramatic and that a day or so off the Olympic knobbing team does not mean he has gone gay or that he subliminally now finds me as attractive as Clarissa Dixon-Wright bending over in a thong. He seemed relieved about that and I am sure mojo will be restored in harmonious fashion once he stops worrying that he�s lost it.

A bit like his best reading glasses which have also mysteriously gone awol, mojo and specs will turn up when he least expects it (with the happy coincidence that I will have something to write about. Don�t worry, I wont bother to let you know when he finds his reading glasses.)

I don�t know what kind of Mojo Jooj and Treac have, I suspect eyeliner mojo and cuddlesome mojo respectively, so I guess they must still be OK as Jooj still looks like she has been thwacked in the face by a bag of soot and having Treac around still puts me in mind of being in the company of a koala bear.

For the benefit of overseas listeners, I would point out that Mojos are also tiny chewy candies over here. About the size of a six-bump lego (the thin ones you use for window sills in lego mansions!), when I was a small girl they were 4 for a penny. When I was a big girl and assumed that a few of the mint flavoured ones would disguise from my mother the fact that Id been puffing on a JPS on the school bus home, they were 2 for a penny. If you can still get them now, which I doubt, they are probably about a quid each.
Inflation rates notwithstanding, their only other notable trait was that they would turn, over time, into some bizarre sticky inedible mush from which the wrapper could not be removed and which stuck to the inside pocket of ones school blazer with such tenacity that I wonder NASA didn�t use them to attach those bloody tiles to the side of space shuttles and the like. The fuckers wouldn�t have fallen off on re-entry then, nosirreebob!

Laters taters
S
x





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