Stepfie's List of 2007 Ramblings (occasionally coherent)
This year, I shall firmly resolve to write about sex a bit more. I like writing about sex. It amuses me. Actually, when I write about sex it seems to amuse YOU too, so thats good enough reason to do it more. Care to suggest a topic? Got something on your mind? Do let me know. I'll happily give you the benefit of my extreme slaggishness wide ranging life-experience.
Smash: dont think you'd better suggest, mate. You already know way too much for me to be able to always look you in the eye!
I further resolve to continue Not Smoking as I have done it for six months now and it seems to be going OK. Obviously, Im not including dope in this No Smoking thing, as that would just be silly. I would, however, concede that smoking dope can lead to other more dangerous things and will carefully monitor my weed intake to ensure that doesnt happen. Some of the more dangerous things that dope can lead to include: overuse of the word "Duuuuuuuude", Pringle abuse, believing oneself to be astonishingly sexually attractive in an improbable way - for example, I often believe whilst stoned that I look like one of those teeny-waisted, pneumatic-breasted She-Ra types, instead of a middle-aged, grey-skinned Paula type. (I luuurve Paula - I wish she wasnt dead). Believing others to be astonishingly sexually attractive - only a problem if one is single, of course. For me, its no biggie. I already think BF Is. A. God. Even in the cold light of day.* However, I could see that it could be a problem if one goes to bed with say, Will Mellor and wakes up with..umm..David Mellor. Whatever.
*apart from when he's being a cunt, of course.
I have embarked on an extremely foolish pact with my dear Slave. She is to give up smoking if I.....
Learn
To
Swim.
I am already biting my lip and feeling a bit tearful. My next shopping expedition (not the one I did yesterday when I bought some sexy boots because I couldnt find anything nice to get for my lunch) will be to buy a sporty swimsuit with some sort of curvy stripey bits down the sides of it. As any fool knows, these act in the same way as the stick-on stripes on the side of a shitty, ancient, slow car in that they instantly turn it into a shiny, fast, sporty, RAWWWRR of a car. Once wearing my sleek, racing back, high leg, Lycra sausage-skin cozzie, I will instantly become more aquatically adept and water-dynamic. Or whatever the word is for someone not floundering about in the shallow end like a big ole spaz with mascara running down her cheeks.
A by-product of the swimming, of course, is that I will miraculously lose half a stone and become super-lithe and toned in a way that would make Madonna pinch her bingo-wings and weep, without me having to give up cakeys and Minty Aeros and Smoky Bacon crisps. And custard on my puddings. (No thats NOT a fucking euphemism! Jesus H Christ, you lot are SICK!)
My predictions for 2007 are many and varied. I write my own horoscope as, being Virgo, I am too fussy to let anyone else do it - they just wont do it PROPERLY.
In January, I will mostly be deluded. And broke. My lucky fish will be standof. My children will finally outgrow the house and will have their arms and legs stiking out of the windows a la Alice in Wonderland. Jooj will face Steven Hawkin in a televised debate on the Meaning of Life. She will win and her closing remark will be "well D'UH. Dont you even know THAT?!"
February I will be visited by a tall dark handsome stranger who thinks he's fugly but he's actually quite dishy even tho I wouldnt tell him that he's dishy or he would accuse me of taking the piss. He will sleep in my spare room and he and the BF will spar for my attention in a jocular fashion. I will do the Crazy Monkey Sex bit with BF as he is my BF and therefore utterly irreplaceable but the big handsome stranger will still get a fried breakfast cos I love Love LOVE him and he is my friend.
Also in February I will acheive critical acclaim for my portrayal of Regan in King Lear (a part originally made famous by John Thaw, playing opposite Dennis Waterman. Our version doent have any Ford Granada's in it, nobody wears a tan leather jacket and the line where I say "SHUT IT" appears to have been cut, but its still worth the �10 ticket (�9 OAPs �6 students)). The crowds will flock to ChavVille Theatre. But thats mostly for a Bobby Davro Spectacular.
Treacle will receive marriage proposals from every prince of every Royal House in Europe (and some other places that Im not sure where they are but they've all got princes). She will let down her rapunzel hair from the spare room window and say "I am only seven and you are all rank. I only love my daddy and Mr. BF. And Grandad and Uncle Matt."
They will prostrate themselves on the driveway whining, "...but you are sooooo beautiful". Their white chargers will poo everywhere and the clanking of armour will annoy the neighbours as they are Indian (true!) and their princes are more glamorously dressed, with comfy-looking baggy trousers and slipper-y things on their feet and absolutely NO CHAIN MAIL.
Treacle will say "Would you like to do some colouring?" and they will all look bemused and eventually drift away, only to return ten years later disguised as spotty pizza-delivery boys - their cut-glass vowels changed by powerful sorcery into a series of monosyllabic grunts. She will be captivated by the most simian of their number, such is the power of the bewitching spell he will place upon her.
ooo. ooh, I forgot a bit from January. I will get bored of doing this and will wander away to get a glass of whisky without bothering to fin
editors Note: BF has suggested the first Sex Topic: Durex Play. Its minty, its slippery, its Mmmmmmmmm. Next time, then! s x
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