It's hard to know exactly why you're being driven mad when there is so much competition for the role.
Sex is one I think. Lack of that is. I'm just not used to going without for this long, so it must be affecting me somehow. I'm not exactly climbing the walls, but I've never felt that was an effective way of dealing with sexual frustration. What is it supposed to achieve exactly?
Then again, what am I supposed to achieve by crying, obsessing over uncontrollable events, and analysing things I know nothing about?
I'm not expecting an answer to that.
At least, no matter what happens, or what doesn't happen in the remaining hours of this weekend, I will be out of here in 3 days, and no matter how bleak and empty my life continues to be, I won't have to deal with the constant nagging, the incessant questioning about every movement I make, and the drunken jabber about one of 7 subjects which I'm not even the slightest bit interested in. I will be able to leave, and proudly announce.
"Screw you guys, I'm going home!"
Sunday, January 29, 2006
It's hard to know exactly why you're being driven mad when there is so much competition for the role.
Posted by Michelle at 3:58 PM
Friday, January 27, 2006
If you want to hold on to your husband, read on.
The following is a 1955 guide to being a good wife. It might be real, or it might be some joke, but just for fun I'm going to assume it's real.
It's good advice, but not perfect. Some of it just doesn't go far enough in explaining just what is necessary, and I'm afraid in parts it's just wrong. So I'm here to correct the most glaring errors.
Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.This is obviously impractical. You can't make a gourmet meal every night, and he'd just start moaning about where the housekeeping money is going. What you need to do is get him used to liking cheap, easy to prepare meals. You can have a few similar mix and match things, like chicken and chips, fish and chips, chicken and mashed potato etc. That way you can pretty much make it in a couple of minutes after he comes, which solves the problem caused by unpredictable return time. If he comes home late, just don't bother to cook. If he's already eaten out you won't have to make anything, but if he's still expecting dinner you can whip it up easily enough. And always make sure to say something like "here you are, it's your favourite, fish fingers" when you're putting his plate in front of him. You'll have him trained in months.
Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you’ll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people. Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.Well, I'm sorry girls, but this is kind of useless. If you're hot, you're hot, though you do have to work at keeping yourself that way. If you're fat and ugly I'm afraid there's no hope for you, he'll be banging his secretary before the first year is up.
Oh and "be a little gay" doesn't mean invite a friend over for a threesome. Unless you want it to.
Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives, gathering up school books, toys, paper, etc. Then run a dust cloth over the tables. Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift, too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.
Irrelevent. The house should be in perfect order at all times, otherwise you're a bad wife and mother.
Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children’s hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimise all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.This one's a problem. How to make the kids sit down and shut up? You could try discipline, but this usually requires the old "wait til your father gets home" trick, which would involve your husband, and we don't want to trouble the poor darling, so it looks like a bit of drugging is the way to go. Fortunately nowadays it's easy to get ritalin for your kids, so give them a big dose about half an hour before he's due, and they'll be perfect angels by the time he shows.
Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.Yes, you've only been running around after his own children all day, that's the last thing he wants to hear about.
Don’t greet him with complaints and problems.Don’t complain if he’s late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through that day.And indeed as a proud wife and mother, you have nothing to complain about. If you feel yourself getting frustrated, just think of all the unhappy childless spinsters out there who couldn't get a man, and you'll feel better instantly.
Um, but if he stays out all night, then I'm sorry but he's fucking someone. But never fear, just start having sex with the milkman. It will make you feel better.
Make him comfortable: Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or suggest he lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him. Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soft, soothing and pleasant voice. Allow him to relax and unwind.Just remember, he's had a hard day sweating at his desk pinching the secretary's bum, whereas you've been sitting around eating bon bons while the children play happily around you, time to get to work!
Don’t ask him questions about his actions or question his judgement or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.Let's be honest. You know and I know that your husband is an idiot. The way to get around this is to pretend that you agree with everything he says, "yes darling, you know best", and then just do things the way you would anyway, he'll never notice. If you're clever with words, you can suggest things in a way that insinuates it was his idea, so you can have everything your own way, and have your husband think he has the perfect obedient wife. Everyone wins.
A good wife always knows her place.On your back, on your knees or bent over the desk, you know your husband best. If you're unsure call the office and ask the lady on the other end, she'll know.
Posted by Michelle at 5:27 PM
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Now you know.
And for those hardened Mutant Cat devotees who've seen this before, (again and again), give me a break, my ideas are few and far between and if I want to milk them for all they are work I am going to milk! Ok.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
What is a sex pyramid? I'm pretty sheltered, so I'd never heard of it until I was perusing Pandagon earlier on. It seems that it's something that this lady invented.
Unfortunately it's not as fun as it sounds, it was created out of a concern for the loose morals young people have today, and how parents these days are just not up to teaching their kids about sex in the proper way. A bit of her wisdom,
Sadly, too many(parents) aren't around, are otherwise engaged or are themselves products of a culture forged in the experimentation of the 1960s Woodstock Generation. Raised in an era awash in feminist efforts to promote the androgyny myth, many have bought into the ideology of male and female sexual equality. Others have bought into the credo that enshrines the negative consequences of sexual experimentation as an inescapable rite of passage.The wisdom of Janet Shaw Crouse, concerned christian woman and mad mop lady. She's worried about the breakdown of marriage in our society, as we all well should be,
Marriage balances out the female's disadvantage by involving family and community. Families in enlightened societies said, historically, to unattached males: "You must agree to be faithful, to fulfill the obligations of fatherhood and make those commitments publicly before you have sex with our daughters." The marriage contract, then, was a public statement that protected not just women and children but the community, as well.Men got married so they could fuck, and women earned the protection and security of a husband by giving it up. And everyone believed in god and everything was peachy. Unfortunately the feminists and liberals came along and ruined everything for us, so women like Janet have to come up with shit like this to save society.
Let me offer a simple, effective lesson in how parents can talk with their children about sex. Here is a "sex pyramid" similar to the familiar "food pyramid," which gives a hierarchy of balanced nutrition. The "sex pyramid" provides a "roadmap" for parents to talk about the hierarchy of elements in sexuality.Ok, let's take a look.
Hmm. This seems to me like she was lying in bed, unable to sleep with her husband snoring like a pig and was thinking about sex, for some reason. She got onto thinking about her children and their burgeoning sexuality and how she was going to deal with that in this promiscuous world, and as her husband farted away she was reminded of how he stuffed his fat face at dinner tonight, and how he always did that, and suddenly it came to her, food pyramid, sex pyramid, food pyramid, I could make a sex pyramid just like the food pyramid, and use to to discuss sex and morals with the children, it's brilliant.
And the next day as she was enthusiastically telling this to the other concerned women she was so excited and so pleased with herself that they didn't have the heart to tell her, um, that's lame.
So it got on the website. I'm sure that plenty of parents will like it though because she thinks the "birds and the bees", that is the bit where you explain that a man puts his throbbing hard organ into the lady's wet inviting hole, should be given the least attention, so phew! To sum up the elements.
Values: What God tells you.
Relationships: Don't have sex until you're married.
Emotions: Boys only want one thing.
Consequences: Pregnancy, AIDS, drug addiction, death, should I go on?
Birds and Bees: Um, we don't really need to get into this one, you'll stumble through that once you're married.
I thought I'd make my own sex pyramid, serves absolutely no purpose, but it's more comparable to the food pyramid which Janet steals her idea from. Here it is:
Now let's go through all of those,
Missionary: Good old fashioned man on top penis in vagina sex, possibly within marriage for procreation, but not necesarily.
Naughty: P in V but with other positions, girl on top or doggy style, anything else.
Alternatives: Oral, anal, handjobs, non p in v stuff that everyone does.
Adventurous: When you get a little more interesting, gay sex, group sex, sex with toys, bdsm the slightly weirder stuff.
German*: Using sharp painful objects, icky bodily fluids, animals, penis eating, the really weird stuff.
So there you go. A simple way for parents to explain sexuality to their kids. I think it makes much more sense than Janet's morality tales.
Of course you have to realise that most people don't have a diet that's high in grains and vegetables.
*I use this joke only to draw attention to the preposterous stereotype that German people are into weird, sadistic sex, and I assure you that I don't hold this stereotype, indeed, some of my best friends are German.
Friday, January 20, 2006
I have 12 days left in this place.
I really don't want to be here tonight. It's Friday, I hardly ever had to stay here Friday nights, excuse me while I go and weep for a couple of minutes,
I'm back. Well, just under 2 weeks until I get to move out of here. That doesn't help me much tonight. William is out, and well on his way to getting drunk, by the time he returns he will be completely shitfaced. Now I'm perfectly happy for him to not be here for most of the night, but it's hard to enjoy when I have to worry about the return. It will probably be early in the morning, he'll want to play music or something. At best he'll come in, sit down and have a cigarette for about half an hour, potter around in the kitchen for half an hour, stumble around for a bit, and then somehow make it to bed and snore very loudly, then after an hour get up, get in the shower and make weird noises and singing, and then go back to bed. In any case I won't be able to sleep.
And all I want to do is sleep. I hate the nights. The days are tolerable but the nights, I just want to sleep, but I can't so much of the time. And when I can't sleep , I have too much time to think, and get depressed. I wonder, what happened, what will happen, whether, oh shit what's the point, this is never going to get any better.
I hate my life.
Posted by Michelle at 9:47 PM
Thursday, January 19, 2006
This is going to be a regular thing so I think I'll go to more of them, maybe improve my performance a bit, and I think it's good to have interests, you know activities to do while you're drinking as opposed to just drinking.
Unfortunately it was a bit slippery outside, and I had a bit of an accident on the way home.
Posted by Michelle at 10:35 PM
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Two weeks to go. Goddammit!
William's being a total shit. He's in one of his "I have so many things to do and my life is so hard!" moods, which he spends half his life in, where he takes it out on me, because according to him, my life isn't so stressful and terrible as his.
I've actually been working today, but it's not good enough for him if there's particular tasks he thinks I should have done that I didn't think of or was unable to do, Like for instance my internet connection going totally shitty and making me unable to look up some stuff on emails that he wanted, which I explained to him fully as soon as he got in. He still found an excuse to rant and rave and bitch at me.
The worst thing about today is that I've been unable to spend time with my new love. No, it's nothing like that, but a certain e-correspondent of mine finally urged me to get with the times and get Messenger, so the past few days I've been developing a new addiction to online chatting.
Of course MSN Messenger is a donkey fucking dildo and I keep getting thrown off but it's fun all the same.
I got a phone call from Iraq today. I bet not everyone can say that. I can't wait til I'm out amongst people when I can casually drop that line again. That'll make people take notice. I bet no one else in this bar got a phone call from Iraq today, I bet I'm the only one.
It was from my brother, the fucking lunatic. I had known he was planning to move there, for a bank job, but as he's been sending emails to the wrong mutant cat, I was unaware that he was already there, or indeed that he was still intending on going. I finally got the emails today when I explained to him that someone on gmail had already taken mutantcat, so I had to make do with mutantkat, with a k. Whoever she is she must wonder who the fuck this freak is that keeps emailing her.
I hate my life, I really do. I should be going out tonight though, even if it's cold, snowing, raining, hailing and whatever else. There's some do on in a bar with karaoke, and some people I know should be there. It's something to do, and it will get me out of here. I don't think I'll be singing though, I can't risk getting drunk enough to actually do so, at least not while I'm living here. That could be a disaster.
Posted by Michelle at 5:31 PM
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Here's something groovy I came across while perusing my favourite sites and blogs. It's a collection of mug shots of women from the 40s, brought to us by Swapatorium, a blog dedicated to showing off cool, trashy, interesting antique stuff.
Of course being the 40s all the women look fabulous, like film stars. My favourite is Violet, She's such a cutie. And the coolest chick alive, I want to be her when I grow up.
It's hard to believe that any of these ladies did anything illegal, they all look so nice! The owner believes that most of them were picked up for something called
solicitation, so I guess women doing lawyery type work was illegal then. Those sexist pigs! I'm so glad we have equality now. We don't even have to fix our lipstick before getting mugshots taken. That's progress for you!
Posted by Michelle at 4:43 PM
Monday, January 16, 2006
The following is something I wrote a few months ago and I'm rehashing it here. The relationship with person B is now terminated now but what is said is still valid.
You know what women want. A huge cock. That's all we really care about. Those of us who are into men anyway. Well, some people think so. I'm supposed to be impressed by man with a magnificent member who thinks that I'm somehow privileged just by having access to it, but really it's more like, whatever.
I can't speak for other women, but I suspect sometimes the when-the-men-aren't-around talk is at least in some cases just for show. Nobody wants to seem less wild or uninhibited than their friends do they? And really, once you're in a position to know such things about a man, you've already kind of made a decision about him, haven't you?
If my suspicions are correct, then what's up with all the penis enlargement spam that we all get, I mean I've never met anyone who's actually taken advantage of the ads but, there's got to be a reason for them.
So who the hell is it that's so obsessed with size?
I'll tell you who it's men that's who. And I'm not talking gay men (though they probably do have a special interest in this subject). I'm talking hetero, straight manly men.
They're obsessed with their own, obviously, but what's this unnatural interest in what other dudes have got hanging? That's kind of gay isn't it?
Well, maybe not every single man is obsessively obsessed with other men's dimensions, but let me tell you a story.
Let's say there are 2 people, both male. I will call them person A and person B. I used to be with person A, and we're still friends and see each other quite often. Person B is who I am seeing now. Person A knows little about person B, as I rarely answer the numerous, all too personal questions he asks about him. Nevertheless he thinks he knows all about person B, and because of his analysis that person B has nothing else to offer me, he's come up with the conclusion that person B must have an absolutely ginormous cock, which I shall neither confirm nor deny.
When person A goes out and sees friends they agree with his assessment, and tell him that person B must have a huge cock, what else could the attraction be? Of course they're just fucking with him, as friends do, and because there are certain people who don't like person B a whole lot, as they think he's a smartass knowitall, probably because he's a smartass knowitall, which can be threatening to some men, probably because they have tiny dicks.
Anyway, if person A is to believed in the number of times this subject comes up in conversation, then by now there must be quite some rumours flying around about person B's impressiveness. Person B may not be surprised to hear these sorts of rumours about him, but he'd sure be amazed to find out the source of the rumour.
So there's my proof that men care more than women about penis size. So my study pool is small. My theory is that men just think the penis is much more important than it really is, when it really isn't. Sorry guys.
Whereas we, as women aren't so shallow. We would never base a relationship on such a shallow basis. No, we care about things that really matter. Like intelligence, having a fantastic body, a cool car, oh and lots of money.
Posted by Michelle at 7:29 PM
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Shit I've been getting all religious lately, I don't know what's come over me.
Posted by Michelle at 6:44 PM
Saturday, January 14, 2006
I'm moving. This is a very good thing, as I've wanted to move for a while, and things have pretty much sucked lately, for as long as it's been this year in fact.
A bit of background in case you care. I'm living with, or as I prefer to say staying with William, who is my ex boyfriend and business part, and friend, I guess quite good friend but I really can't stand him sometimes. I broke up with him a year ago, officially at least, when I moved out of the flat we then shared. I got my own sharing with somebody which was great.
After a few months I had problems with that flat and I had to move out, this was September I think, because there wasn't so much money at the time I just came here, William's flat, our office, and where my computer and internet is. I thought it would probably be for a month, but money was short, then I had other problems which I'm not going to go into here, then I just couldn't fucking find a suitable place. I was going insane. It's been more than a year since I broke up with this guy and I still can't get a life of my own away from him, I still see him, hang out with him, and everything else more than anyone else, and everyone still thinks of us as together.
And then this year came along, and everything went from sort of ok, but not quite right, to fucking terrible. The one person that mattered to me, that I could spend time with, who I was and still am desperately in love with but that's beside the point, decided he didn't want to see me anymore, without telling me at all but nevermind, the point is that I was pushed back further into the depending on William abyss than I'd been before.
What am I getting at? Well, I'll get to that.
So I've been looking at flats to share. Most of them terrible. I saw one last week however that I liked, and thought, hmm, this could be cool, but I won't think too much about it because I probably won't get it. He said he'd get back to me on Thursday. A guy called Joan, that's pronounced Yo-an I think. I thought it was a woman until I met him because of the name, but that's ok, he seems like a reasonable guy.
So Thursday came. I was quite preoccupied with other stuff, so I wasn't thinking about it that much. I got no messages and by about 4pm I figured he'd given it to the other person who saw the flat before me. A bit of a blow, because I really needed something to relieve my misery, but what could I do.
So I basked in the luxury of having everything in my life be totally tragic, with nothing too look forward to, in fact being doomed.
After a while I went back to the internet and looked to see if there were more flats worth looking at. There was nothing. So I decided for once to look at flats for rent, as ooposed to flatshare, and surprisingly I found one that seemed reasonable. I thought, what the fuck am I doing looking at this flatshare bullshit? I've been thinking for months that I just can't afford to move into my own place, but really, that's only if I don't demand that William, who has no more right to our money than I do, gives it to me. And of course this one I saw might be taken, or it mightn't be as good as I thought it was, but if that seems good, there will be others.
I felt something almost in a way similar to happy for the first time this year. I was going to get my own flat! I'd get my own tv, and in time a computer, and I'd get a cat! Finally I get to have a kitty cat all of my own, to love and cuddle and take wacky photos of! I was basking in the idea, and the feeling of power it would give me to tell William that I was going to get my own flat, and yes I am going to have that money!
Then I got the message. If you're still interested in the room, you can have it. Or something like that. I almost felt disappointed, I nearly wrote back that I had now decided I was going to get my own place, but I decided that was stupid, so I wrote back yes.
So that's how you get what you want. Decide you want something else altogether.
Posted by Michelle at 7:25 PM
I've committed the grand crime of blogging someone else's photo, yes, sue me. This is someone else's cat on catnip. But what else was I to do, I have no cat photos of my own.
Does this mean something? Is there a certain longing in me? Would a psychiatrist tell me that all this anxiety and aggression and selfishly using pieces of complete stranger's lives to express myself just mean I want a kitty of my own? Does it?
Posted by Michelle at 7:01 PM
Friday, January 13, 2006
This photo was taken for Halloween, but I didn't get it done in time. Some evil minion I am! Oh well, I believe in recycling.
Posted by Michelle at 1:21 PM
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Posted by Michelle at 8:17 PM
Sunday, January 08, 2006
Posted by Michelle at 8:52 PM
Well, it's official. He's broken up with me. He finally wrote me an email, after a week of ignoring my calls, emails and messages. At least I think it's been a week. I don't know when, or why he decided it was definately over, he hasn't told me that. The email was mostly full of scolding because of the way I conducted myself. He said my behaviour was inexcusable, and that I had encroached on his privacy. Yes, I did go over the top, and it would have been going way too far in any other situation but I had to know what was happening. He doesn't realise what he did. He broke up with me without fucking telling me. He made major changes to my life without filling me in on it.
I thought the email was totally unfair. He called me callous, which so innapropriate I can't even begin to think what the hell was going on in his mind. He's a fucking English teacher, and one with a high opinion of himself and he doesn't even know the meaning of the word. My actions were those of a desperate, frantic woman, who's in love and desperate to know what's going on. How that equates with being cold, heartless and emotionless I don't understand. And inconsiderate? Because I didn't respect his privacy, his need to keep everything to himself and avoid the responsibilty of anyting, to selfishly demand to know whether I still have a boyfriend or not? I couldn't go on with the uncertainty, I don't know who could. Why doesn't he understand that? Why can't he see that he's the inconsiderate one, that his actions are inexcusable and anything I did in reply pales in comparison? That he's mean, callous, cold, uncaring and heartless to do something like that to me? It's so unfair I want to scream.
And I love him. So much that I'd forgive him for all the shit he's pulled, but I'm not going to get the chance, he can't stand me at all.
Posted by Michelle at 8:00 PM
Thursday, January 05, 2006
I'm so miserable I want to die!
The following is an email I sent the lovely Don Swift yesterday.
I am sitting here, doing nothing in particular, just reading. I'm
still kind of miserable. I haven't spoken to Tom for about 3 days, or
maybe 2, I don't know, since the year began. I got kind of pissed off
at him for something stupid and sent him a nasty message saying I
didn't want to see him anymore. Afterwards I wished I hadn't sent it
and tried calling him, but he wasn't answering the phone.
He does this though. The last I saw him he was going through one of
his hibernations, where he sleeps most of the day for a few days and
turns the sound off his phone and doesn't reply to or I suppose read
any of his correspondence. I've tried calling him again and again, and
sent him a bunch of messages since the nasty one saying please,
please, please let me know what's going on and no answer.
I'm still thinking it's more likely to be him just shutting the world
out, though what does that say, that he won't even read my messages? I
know, I should break up with him anyway, but I don't want to, I'll
make some excuse for him if this does turn out all right, which it
still might. He's not the kind of person to get so angry at a message
that he'll not forgive me, he doesn't really react too strongly to
anything. Then again, maybe he just decided that I'm more trouble than
I'm worth, as he never really cared about me all that much so he's
decided he's had enough of me, and being someone who doesn't like to
talk about anything personal, he's just hoping that I'll eventually
give up and go away.
I just wish I fucking knew. Unless of course the truth is that he
doesn't want me anymore, then I just want to die.
So that's my dilemma. You can give me advice if you want, but if I
don't like it I won't take it.I still haven't heard from him.
Posted by Michelle at 9:38 PM