Want milk? Be prepared to pay.

I can't really elaborate on what Jill or Amanda have to say on this but,

I had to have that graphic. That is a modest cow. She is brought to us by Modesty Zone (no link, but easily googlable), a site which helps young girls growing up today to free themselves from the tyranny of the patriarchy, teaching them to rebel against a culture that tells them they're self worth is determined by what they look like, to make their own choices and live for themselves and not for men, to shave their heads and wear big stomping boots and give the finger to boys who give them shit and tell them "fuck you, I do what I want and don't care what you think!"

Oh wait a minute, they don't do that at all. Silly me.

What they're actually saying can be summed up by, there are good girls and there are sluts. You want to be one of the good girls don't you? So cover up your perky young body so the boys will ogle, harrass and grope and slander "those" kinds of girls but end up marrying you.

And we're not going to question why it is that it's ok for men to go around screwing who they want and treat them like shit afterwards, while it's not ok for us to fuck at all, because it's not out place to. Men have their needs, and their needs must be met.

So we'll wear our "Girls Gone Mild" t-shirts to show how strong and independent we are, while those horrible feminists go around wearing what they like, fucking who they like, and then having the nerve to say they have the right to be treated like decent people, just like the men are!

Learning about myself

It's really hard to write erotic letters.

Especially when there's someone sitting behind you who's not the intended reader of your correspondence.

And you're really quite a shy, introverted type of person.

And you feel as though you're being judged somehow not only on your sexual prowess but on your skill as a writer.

And you don't know how far you can go with sharing how you really feel as opposed to what the correspondent wants to hear, whatever that is.

I might get better if I keep trying though.

Damn! I need to get a new subject. This blog is beginning to be about all sex all the time! I have to do something about that, don't want to lose my C rating.

Just the right size, any bigger and it would hurt way too much

I am so glad, for the second time this week, to have my own flat to go to. I was sitting here, luxuriously enjoying the place to myself, W was out all night evidently. He just came stumbling in, quite drunk, immediately put on music and started telling me how much he loves me and always will. Blrgggh!

And after the wonderful night I had last night! Rowr! I feel giddy. I'm all drained of energy and I can't think straight. Heavens! Did I mention rowr!

Unfortunately there are no photos. It's difficult to find someone who has the technical excellent as well as the artistic talent to capture that kind of action, but there is always the future.

Now I have to wait until next weekend until we meet again! However will I bear it! Drudging through another week of work, whining and everything that begins with W.

It will be tough, but I'll survive it, I'm strong.

The answer I needed

I was musing the other day about the origins of the expression "goody 2 shoes". I thought it was odd. I came up with a theory that was kind of a stretch, something about 2 shoes, meaning 2 pairs of shoes, but it wasn't really satisfying. Then some Daft Bugger came along, and cleared it up for me.

It derives from the Sado Masochistic practice of beating buttocks with footwear. It's the norm for the submissive to be thrashed severely on and around the arse with a flexible slipper. But if the governess, or mistress deems the underling to have been particularly naughty, then, employing her assistant, otherwise known as 'government aid' (sorry), the wretched masochist is set about by both shoe-wielding attackers. And it's not uncommon for the naughty boy, when realising his fate, to exclaim, with tremulous excitement, 'oh goody... two shoes!'. How ironic that nowadays this has become synonomous with purity of thought and action.

Thanks DB for clearing that up.

The fine, the upstanding, the strong!

I've been looking through some of my posts, and checking word searches that found their way to my blog, and I realised that people out there reading might think I'm somewhat of a man hater. I'm sorry if I gave this impression, it is totally untrue. I assure you I do like men, I have the utmost respect for men.

In fact, I love men. I love their hard, muscular bodies. I love their facial hair. I love the way they run fast, lift heavy things, and sweat, oh the sweat!

I love their deep voices, their well defined jaws, their strong grip, the way they look in jeans, and oh, the way they look out of their jeans.

I love the way they look at me, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear, and caress my body tenderly. I love the way they slowly undress me, lightly brushing my skin as they go, and following with their lips all the way down my body. I love the way they,

wait a minute,

Zip!

This is a family blog, I can't go any further. For the rest you'll have to email me.

But anyway, I think this clears things up. I DO NOT hate men. I love them, I adore them, I think they should have everything their strong and manly hearts desire, I think they are great!

Well the sexy, stylish, gorgeous, intelligent, funny and sweet ones anyway.

Important questions that go sadly unaddressed.

Can someone please tell me how the expression "goody 2 shoes" originated? I mean, who the hell doesn't wear 2 shoes? It makes no sense! I know that there are people who wear no shoes, but if it were considered particularly "good" or well behaved to wear shoes, which it isn't, then the expression would be, "goody shoes", or "goody shod", why the need to mention that the goody goody indeed has both shoes on? That should be obvious.

If one were to go around with one shoe on, surely they would be considered more odd than bad.

Oh my god! A blessing, or 2.

I´m a grumbling old cat, as anyone who regularly reads this blog will know. I pretty much never have anything good to say about anything, ¨I hate it here¨I want my own place¨, then I get my own place but it still sucks because I have no money, my life is still meaningless and it really didn´t make that much difference wa wa wa.

Well I´m really glad to be out of there today. I was just sitting there, browsing and idling until about an hour ago. A little bit frustrating because the connection is so bad, but I was alone.

Then the key turned in the door. He was home. Noticeably drunk, slurring his words and asking me about emails and stuff. He asked about emails and if anything had come re the business. I told him I hadn´t gotten anything done because of the bad connection. He kept rambling on as I got my stuff to go.

He rambled on a bit, complaining about stuff, saying I should write to some people, bear hugged me smelling of tons of cigarettes and beer, but within minutes I had my coat on, telling him bye, I´ll see you tomorrow.

And I was out. A month ago I would just have to deal with it. Or go out wandering around the streets aimlessly for a while. Instead I was able to come home. He can go on to get even more fucked up if he likes, it makes no difference to me.

And in other positive Michelle news. I was at a Carnival today, The Carnival of the Feminists at Mind the Gap with my Vanity Fair post. I didn´t think it would get included as it´s kind of flimsy and trivial but it´s there. Very nice of them I think.

I submitted my Satan post to the Carnival of the Godless at the same time. I´m a veteran of that carnival, but the host decided not to include me in this one, which was unexpected, I thought I´d get in that one for sure. It was the other Carnival I thought I would be absent from because I didn´t really think the post was all that suitable, I just tried it, but there it is. Doesn´t Doug work in mysterious ways?

Donations Welcome

I must get my own computer.

I've blogged before about the lack of privacy I have in this place, the home of my computer. I've gone on about W, it's co owner and his constant curiosity about every move I make. I've moved out, I have my own place, so why do I even hang around here when it's not strictly necessary for work?

Well being the home of my precious computer, I have no choice but to spend a lot of time here. Sure the work is kinda important, that brings money, but my blogging, my emails, my browsing of stuff of interest, that's what matters. These things are a major part of my life, I must have access to them.

So I'm stuck here, pretty much. If I had my very own computer, all mine, only mine, just for me, me, me, in my own place, I would hardly ever be here at all. My addiction to the internet is keeping me bound to this place, and that man you could say.

I need a computer so I don't have to come to this place at all, except for work hours, so I don't have to hear about all of his problems and how difficult his life is and how no one else has problems like him, or as mentioned before, listen and try to avoid answering a barrage of questions about everything I've been doing. Which is nothing, as I went home the night before after finishing on the computer and came here after waking and showering, to use the computer, but still the questions come.

And I could actually do my stuff in peace. I do get a lot of time alone here, to blog, to chat, to browse, but when he comes in he gets all curious and weirded out by what I'm doing. He can't understand this "blogging" thing, and can't understand that it isn't necessary for him to understand everything I do, I just like to do it. The way this place is set up there is a chair just behind the computer he likes to sit on, and when he's here, he plops himself in that chair, directly behind me, looking over my shoulder. Not literally, not all the time, but it feels like it.

Every now and again he sees something on the screen that he comments on. This really really pisses me off. It may not seem rational but I hate it! Then he thinks I'm being weird again, that I don't want him to see what I'm reading, which is true I don't, I just don't think it's weird, I'm doing what I want on the computer and I want to do it in privacy. He's not interested in the things I'm looking at and I don't care to explain it all to him.

Anyway I don't like it.

Somewhere by the sea

I need a holiday. Not that I ever do anything, but I just need a change. Something that will make me feel like I have some kind of life.

Actually I don't need a holiday, I need a change. I need to move on and do something with myself. This is something I've known for some time. I have my own place, which is working out fine for now, I need a job, that is a practical necessity, I need money, I need the things that money will by, but that isn't what I'm getting at. Even if I get a great job, with reasonable pay, I will still have an empty and pointless life.

I need something else. Something that gives my life purpose. I used to want to act. I went to drama school, I had aspirations, however unrealistic, to be successful, famous, a star even, but I told myself I would be happy to be able to make a living doing what I love.

I still want to act, I'd like to be able to have regular work that's actually paid, be in a long running production, to get paid for small parts in films and ads, but at this point none of that seems likely. At my age actors have experience. They have lists pages long of the plays and films they've been in, and that's just applying to be in student films. I have a few little vague episodes to jot down, it's embarrassing.

It would be pretty much the same applying for any kind of job. A cv of mine would be pathetically sparse. I spent too many years doing nothing. I roamed around, letting my feet take me where they led, without any plans. It was great when it was great. I did a lot and met a lot of people I never would have otherwise. I had a lot of experiences I would never have dreamed of, and certainly wouldn't have deliberately been a part of. I found myself in a lot of trouble as well, which I somehow miracled getting out of.

When it was bad, it was really bad. I was stuck a few times. After having spent so long basically being a bum, I wasn't able to get out of it so easy. When you're not not so young, you have no education, no qualifications and very little in the way of work experience, it can be difficult.

I'm happy for all the crazy experiencees I had, but I'd also like to be ultimately in control. When things are fucked up, I want to be able to stop it. When the wandering around being a free spirit isn't working out anymore, and I know what I want, I want to do it. I haven't been a free spirit for a long time now, so it's well past due time for me to seize complete control of my life. I'm too old for this shit anyway.

If I could figure out what I want it might be easier. Do I want to move again? Is 6 years in Prague more than enough? If so, where would I go? Would I become bored and discontented once the novelty of being in a new place wore off? Probably.

Sure I can still try to be in bad theatre to make up numbers, I can write a blog that at least a few people read. I can make more friends so I can whine about this stuff to real live people instead of just on the internet. I could have a baby, find Jesus, take drugs.

Or maybe I'll just take a holiday.

Rest of the world? Isn't that near Abroad?

Do these people really exist?

Teen guy #1: Well, I'm French.
Teen girl: I'm German.
Teen guy #2: Well, I'm from Spain so I guess we're all from Europe.
Teen guy #1: Spain isn't in Europe.
Teen girl: Dude, yes it is. Europe is like its own continent.
Teen guy #1: I was talking about Europe the country, not that little
island with England on it.

--McDonalds, St. Marks & 3rd

There are some people who occasionally like to travel though,

Woman #1: So I decided to celebrate turning 50 by traveling to Tibet.
Woman #2: Tibet? Where's that? London?
Woman #1: ...No, it's near China and Russia.
Woman #2: Oh. It's not like I don't like to travel but I went to Mexico once and it was stupid.

--4 train

Yeah, everyone wears those silly hats don't they?

All these wonderful tales and more, at Overheard in New York.

Sounds like a real winner.

They don't make them like they used to, well if this guy is how they used to make them, we're all lucky.

Travis Frey is a 33 year old man from Iowa who is facing charges of attempting kidnap his own wife.

Lucky for his wife, as she didn't have to much else to be overjoyed about, she had some dirt on him. It seems the lovely Mr Frey gave his wife a "Contract of Wifely Expectations", including such requests as,

You will shave every third day, which includes underarms, chest, legs, and public area (navel to anus), all areas are to be completely clean shaven.

You will wear only thigh-highs & garters, and only thong panties. The only exception would be during your menstrual cycle, at which time you could wear either or both. Half of your shoe purchases will be high-heels, 2″ or more.

Travis also has a thing called "My Time",

When we are at home … from when you are to be naked until 12:00 am, or for three hours, which ever is later, will be My-Time. This time you will devout solely to me, whereas you will be in my service to do ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING I want, which may or may not be sexual in manner. During My-Time you WILL NOT:

1. Argue about anything with me or to me
2. Complain about anything to me, or about me...

It just gets better:

During My-Time, you WILL:
1. Be subservient, submissive, and totally obedient
2. To do what you are asked, when you are asked, exactly how you are asked
3. Be cheerful and adoring towards me
4. Be close at all times, unless otherwise told to
5. Perform any and all sexual acts, excluding anal penetration and/or ingestion of cum, when told to

Ew!

Good Behavior

Since there will be no trading, negotiations, or concilliations of any kind you are given chances to earn Good Behavior Days (GBD’s). To receive GBD’s you are to be totally compliant with everything requested or expected of you, and perform everything with complete and total enthusiasm. GBD’s will be given when you do things from the descriptions below when not expected…

What an amazingly accommodating dude. Blrggh!

Fellatio, Intercourse, and Other Sex ActsFellatio must last, at least, 5 min. and may include climax. Intercourse includes anal and vaginal intercourse. Sex acts can be oral, anal or vaginal, and include but are not limited too: stripping, hand-jobs, fingering, masturbation, dildoing, vibrators, and object insertions. All applications of lube to myself, you, or any object, will be done by you.

Didn't they invent whores for this kind of stuff? What kind of respectable gentleman would expect his wife to do this stuff, I mean, really!

But really, I'm being way too mean to this guy. He does let his wife choose things for herself after all.

On your birthday Jan 4th you will receive one GBD that is good only on your birthday. On or before my birthday you will select and purchase a sex toy for yourself, this we be consider my birthday gift from you. On or before our anniversary you will select and purchase new lingerie for yourself. Lingerie may include a cameo & panty set, nice nylons & garter set, baby doll set, a costume bra & panty set, etc. Linger does not include night gowns, or PJ's. The lingerie that you selected and purchased will be your sleepwear for that night.

This man sure knows his lingerie well.

You are to pose for 20 photos per quarter on demand … Outfits, toys, and poses will ALWAYS be chosen by me. You must be freshly shaven on the day that photos are taken regardless of your shaving schedule…

Well, I don't see what the problem is, some wives complain that their husbands never want to have sex with them but look at porn all the time. This man obviously desires his wife. The contract remained unsigned, so we can only conclude that she's a demanding American bitch and he should have gotten a nice mail order girl from Russia or the Phillipines.

More typewritten excerpts at Pandagon if you can't be bothered to make sense of the handwriting.

Satan can't come out and play, he's been a very naughty boy

Some would say extremely naughty, the naughtiest you can be, downright evil in fact!

And I would say, now come on! Evil? How do you know, what did he ever do to you?

It seems as though all he's ever guilty of is tempting people to have sex or have negative, nasty thoughts. And have you ever notice that he never actually DOES what he's supposed to be guilty of? He apparently just makes people do stuff? That makes me suspicious right there.

Let's face it he's a lightweight, he's the Diet Coke of evil. In fact he's not even the diet coke, he's the low calorie version of a warmed up glass of awful so called cola that's produced in the Czech Republic of evil. He's insignificant.

Especially if you compare him to God. Now there's a guy with some atrocities under his belt. In case you're still thinking that God is the good guy, here is a list of just some of the stuff he's responsible for. And this is all in the bible or otherwise claimed by Christians themselves, so it's not like some godless heathen just made it all up.

Expelling his tenants, and creations from their garden for eating an apple

Wiping out all of his creations except for one family in a devastating flood because he decided he really didn't like them after all.

He inflicts death, destruction and famine upon the people of Egypt because of the actions of their Pharoah.

He turns a woman to a pillar of salt for looking back on her city.

He sends his people out to rape, pillage and kill time and time again, just cause he feels like it.

And more recently,

He sent AIDS to punish homosexuals.

Sent the terrorists who flew into the World Trade Center to punish the United States for having amongst their population gays, abortionists and feminists.

Sent Hurricane Katrina to devastate New Orleans, again because of gays and abortionists.

Not to mention the thing with his son, his own flesh and blood who by the way he wasn't around to see grow up. He made him hang on a cross, with nails through his hands for days, being jeered and spat on, in order to save some people from an eternity in the bowels of Hell because of some arbitrary rule he made up ages before that he could easily have just changed if he wanted to. I mean what a dick!

We see here a picture of a God who is a genocidal maniac, and most probably a repressed homosexual. Satan is a mere joker in comparison.

Asserting One's Independence

From the title, a reader would be led to believe that that is exactly what one is doing. Unfortunely, in truth one is actually making quite a shoddy job of it.

For those that don't know, I was until recently living with W, someone I previously had a relationship with. It ended about a year ago, I moved out of the flat we shared, but we continued to run our business together. Late last year I had problems with my accommodation, so I moved here for a while, here being his place, where we do business and where my computer is located.

I moved out at the beginning of this month. I thought that now, finally, after breaking up and moving out once, moving back in to sleep on his couch, and all the time being bound to him via the business and all money issues, I would finally, this time sort everything out and become truly independent.

It's proving to be difficult though. One reason being that this computer, my computer is here, and I like to use it a lot. The other is money. Not necessarily the lack of it, though there is a serious lack of it at times, but the distribution of it. Our business I'm sad to say, runs something like a well oiled duck. Completely disorganised, this is no more W's fault than mine, as neither of us really know what we're doing.

So I'm left without money half the time and put in a position to ask him for it. It's not that he witholds money from me on purpose, but as I've mentioned before, he hasn't a clue what he's doing. Instead of just getting how much I should be getting and doing whatever the fuck I want with it, as should be, I have to ask for it. And every time I do he asks me what I need it for. I've tried to explain again and again that it's NONE OF HIS DAMN BUSINESS but he will never get it. I've been trying to train him out of this behaviour for over a year and it's had no effect. He just simply cannot fathom the idea that he doesn't have a right to know everything I do just because he wants to know. It's a very difficult situation.

Like this evening for instance. I'm still here, obviously. I wanted to go home, but there is no food at home, and I don't really want to go hungry, W mentioned earlier about something he wants to cook, not even considering the fact that I may not be here this evening. There isn't a whole lot of money at the moment but I considered asking for money so I could buy food. Then I decided against it, as he'd ask me what it's for, explain to me that there isn't much and he's only going to be using what he has for food, bla bla bla and I just didn't feel like having that discussion. So I'm here still, at least until I've eaten.

This is never going to change, I know that. I know I just have to get a job, and then I can be more agressive about everything and demand he leaves me the hell alone about everything. I've been saying this for months though, and still haven't done anything about it. It's a bit embarrassing to bring it up again, as some would have heard it before. I will do it this time though. I promise.

Love is in the Contaminated Drizzle

I could be cool and be the only blogger who ignored this minor capitalist holiday that is enjoyed by lovers and pining admirers alike, but I won't.

I've never really been into Valentine's Day. I don't have anything against it, but I've never celebrated it. I've never expected a significant other to provide me with any gifts or dinners or anything. I'm happy to let the special romantic moments come when they will.

Of course I used to hate it when I was at school, all the girls would go around showing off the flowers they got, making a big thing of being admired, and I of course had nothing. It's one thing to fade into the background and be ignored, another to have your lack of popularity shoved in your face.

And indeed I was all prepared to be bitter and miserable today, as the lovers walk the streets being romantic, and the Valentine's Day specials are advertised around the place. A luxury only the forgotten, dumped, jilted and loveless can have.

But, as it seems I was right, and "I miss you" means "Mr Hand has gotten very tired after 6 weeks and I'm horny" and a meeting the other night worked out pretty well for me. I think.

I won't be doing anything special today, but it's ok, there'll be other days, but at least I can be happy for those having a nice day today without being bitter.

And for those of you poor souls who are suffering the great pain of missing someone they love. Tough! I've had to deal with heartbreak and loneliness and I don't see why anyone else shouldn't have to!

Warning, may cause harm to stick figures!

Don't play with matches!
Originally uploaded by Mutant Cat.

More lazy photoblogging. I don't know if I've posted this before, but I thought it was kind of funny so I'm doing it again.


A chilling reminder of the devastation wrought by people letting matches get into the hands of the irresponsible. I think the message is a powerful one.

Me with no hair

art photo
Originally uploaded by Mutant Cat.

I did have no hair once. About 4 years ago, maybe 3? Not sure. Long enough ago for it to grow again anyway.

I was hanging out in a bar one way, and started talking to a guy who was a professional photographer, with his camera there. So he took a few photos of me, I thought I'd never get them but a few days later I got an email from him.

So this is what I looked like then.

Something else to add to my considerable list of talents.

Now I'm a picture hanger too. I know, it's easy to have a large list of accomplishments if you add stuff like that. And to be honest I didn't actually hang the picture, I just displayed it, we decided not to make the hanging a part of the presentation because there were fewer people to do it than were planned.

But still, it's more difficult than it sounds. You have all these people in your way where you're supposed to walk, and they're all wondering why you're holding up a painting and carrying it around as a guy with a wreath on his head describes them while making a few comments about the presenter herself. It's kind of weird.

After we showed the paintings there was a belly dance done by someone I know. She learnt bellydancing some years ago and does it every now and again when there's some reason to. It had nothing to do with this exhibition/performance but neither did anything else that was in it.

The exhibition was for the art of a husband and wife team, an American, Steve who I met doing improvisation theatre last year and his wife who is Russian. They had a kind of Russian/American theme to it, but like the previous act, the belly dance, most of the show had nothing to do with that theme.

The next item was a song, a comedy song done by a woman who couldn't really sing, but did a good performance anyway. She kind of tired herself out dancing and had to stop for a breath, and then forgot the words. It kind of reminded me of my own karaoke performance a few weeks ago, where I sang badly and didn't know the words to the songs and couldn't read the prompter. I think the audience/whatever you call people who go to an art exhibition liked this one the best as it was quite funny.

Steve performed a few poems, by English authors, then sang "Fly Me To The Moon" with another woman, both wearing masks.

Then a Russian woman played and sang some Russian folk songs. She could actually sing, and was the only act that you could call professional. I'm not snubbing the rest of the acts by saying that, it was a fun, friendly show and I think most people liked it.

Some of the art was pretty good, my favourite was a naked pregnant woman with what looked like a spliff in her hand, but maybe it just meant to be a cigarette, crudely drawn.

Afterwards everyone browsed the paintings. There were a few people I knew there that I chatted with. I had a glass of red wine which gave me a headache and my back was really sore from standing around so long, so I left quite early, but overall it was pretty nice.

If you want to get laid, read on.

This is a comment I made in response to a post about feminist stereotypes at Pandagon yesterday. It was completely ignored by the fine folk over there, but I though the rabble who hang out here might get a kick out of it.

To answer the question of if a man can be a feminist.

Yes, but in order to join the club he has to go through a de-nutting ceremony, which is exactly what it sounds like. This will take place on a stone slab surrounded by candles, and performed by the high priestess, who will of course be wearing a dark hooded robe, and will be surrounded by her sisters who will hand her the severing instruments while a mass is chanted, in a sort of latin/celtic/ancient greek language that nobody really understands.

He will then spend the next 6 months as a trainee, during which time he will be allowed in the compound only while wearing a pink robe and fluffy slippers and will be required to walk around dusting everything (the duster is also pink), and serving his lady masters while they sit around in dark suits, discussing the matters of the day and playing poker and smoking cigars.

After 6 months he becomes a full member, which means he occasionally gets to sit in on the discussions, but still do the cleaning and bring drinks to the women, though he doesn´t have to wear pink, unless he wants to.

Now when they get Colin Farrel to do this, I'll be impressed

I don't mean the man's pose, one of the women's, preferably Scarlett Johansson who is in the front.

What is that man doing there? If you want to have 2 women nude on a cover, something that I'm not in a position to judge, go for it! But if a man's going to be in the photo, he needs to get it off as well! This is something that needs to be written into law, this kind of stupidity has been going on too long.

Not that I really want to see this guy nude, whoever he is. He isn't particulary attractive, rather ordinary. I mean you have at least one totally useless actress in the photo (Keira Knightley) who is famous soley for being hot, (I've never seen the other one in anything so I can't judge her), but they put these women with some ordinary looking dude! With his clothes on! Why didn't they get someone young, with a fine tight body, no lines on his face and NO CLOTHES ON!

Will there ever be any justice in the world?

Climbing the Walls

I've mentioned before that I don't find climbing walls to be particularly helpful for anything. I prefer a good tree myself, walls are more of a spider thing.

But sometimes things just get too much and you can't just sit back and deal anymore. I'll put it another way, hot.tin.roof! That's a difficult thing to find in Prague at this time of year, but I got one. Unfortunately my wall is rather bare and uninteresting, and doesn't seem to be helping much.

I'm just going to have to get over that whole "love" thing and go out and get myself some guy. Meaningless sex can help with your problems sometimes. The problem is that these matches are usually made in bars, in which you drink, and when you drink you get drunk, and your ability to judge situations goes way down.

Or so I've heard, I wouldn't know myself. Anway you end up waking up with someone you realise you really don't like, somewhere in the city that you don't recognise wanting to get out of there but not knowing how to get back to Vinohrady from there.

Life is hard.

And now for something completely uninteresting

I went to a rehearsal today. At least I think that's what it was. It's for an exhibition, if that makes sense.

A guy I know from doing improv theatre last year is involved in an art exhibition that's on this Friday, and they want to have a kind of multi-arts presentation for it.

I'm presenting paintings, which means I walk around the room with one, showing it to everyone in a rather cheesy manner, and then hang it, there's a few of us doing it. We went through it once, as a hyperactive child ran around the room, and didn't seem to get it right, but I reckon it's a relatively simple thing to do, I should be ok.

I'm slightly worried about the hanging the painting bit though. It sounds stupid but doing actual tasks that involve things in front of people can be tricky, it always seems like it's taking longer than it really is, and I'll probably try to hurry it up which means I'll fumble it up.

I didn't really like the paintings, not that they aren't any good, I wouldn't know anyway, it's just my personal taste.

Other than that there is going to be dancing, songs and poetry. It all sounds kind of boring really, but I don't think it will take too long, so the exhibition and entertainment part should be over with soon, and I can get to the chatting and drinking with people part, which might be fun.

I'm doing it mostly for something to do, to hang out with people, and to keep in touch with theatre types so that one of these days I might actually be in something that's any good. It hasn't worked out so far but I have hopes for this year.

How can you not love the freezing cold, the slush, the slippery ice...

From my bedroom
Originally uploaded by Mutant Cat.

It decided to start snowing again, after 2 weeks of freezing cold but dry weather. If I'm lucky I should have another scar inducing mishap quite soon. Evidence will be posted.

This is from my new bedroom window. There's a kind of ugly courtyard below that, but from this angle it all looks very pretty.

Yeah but no tits at all, what's the point?

One of Yahoo's most emailed photos, can't imagine why.

I know, I shouldn't be so mean, these women are just poor and undernourished, and taking advantage of a fashionable preference for the starving look. You can't blame them for that.

It's society's fault. I really shouldn't care at all that I have a huge sagging ass and would never look good in this kind of getup. Why does it matter? I know I'm smarter than pretty much everyone I've ever met, I have a whole list of fabulous talents, though unfortunately due to laziness, an inability to concentrate on one thing for too long, and a lack of suck up ability that seems all too important to getting anywhere in life I've not yet been able to qualify as "successful", as someone of my genius should.

I'm also the sweetest, most lovely person I've ever met, I have a wacky and unique sense of humour as well as a whole bunch of other great things.

And on top of all that, I am considered at very least, reasonably attractive by most people. So why do I feel inadequate because of my looks so much of the time?

You can answer me by telling me how gorgeous I am, and that will be nice, but not really helpful. What I really want to know is why we're so fucked up in this way, and more important how we can change it.

The only thing I can think of is to round up all the men and cut their nuts of without any anaesthetic, let them bleed and bleed and bleed until they die slowly.

But if you have a better idea I'm open to suggestions.

A Room of One's Own

It even has a view. I'm not sure exactly what of, I haven't seen it in the daylight yet.

So today is my official move in day. I will be sleeping there tonight. In a nice little room, in a pleasant flat on the fourth floor in a building just down the hill.

It's quite a small room, but big enough for me. It has everything, a bed, a wardrobe with plenty of space, and a little desk which hopefully shall house my own computer before too long.

The bedding and decor is a little tacky, but I shall be bringing my own. I'll be putting my own mark on the room, probably printed out nudes and abstract art on the walls, which by the way are extremely climbable, so maybe I'll me meeting Jesus there.

There are a lot of pubs nearby, which I would count as a positive thing. It's high up and at the back of the building so it should be quiet. I look over a kind of courtyard, that's what it looks like in the dark anyway.

I'm sharing with a man, youngish, seems pleasant. Actually I know nothing about him, but I'm pretty sure he isn't a psycopath. He seems so nice.

And I shall bring my cats. They should liven up the place.