Now Who Likes A Good Story About A Bridge...?

Let me tell you about my shit. Stay a while and listen...

I talked to a dude who resprays cars and bikes. I'm going to do a few hours here and there for him, and then make myself invaluable so that he has to hire me.

I'd like to own a bike breakers, with a respraying place and a polishing place on site also. Also a Captain Jaspers style restaurant with more food and alcohol. One where the owners DON'T hate their main clientele (bikers).

Meanwhile, this soap stuff is bollocks. Hate it. Hate it with a passion.

I'm tired.

That's all.

***NEW CAMFREEBAY BLOG... THIS IS WHERE I'LL BE FROM NOW ON! ***

http://www.camfreebay.com/blog/ukgamegirl/

Fuck You

So... maybe I should leave more time between texts before freaking out. But he looked at each one. Then eventually, he said he was driving. Must have been driving from the second he rolled out of bed, because haven't got anything all morning.

Seriously? If I had met with someone that I liked the night before and then said I'd text them tomorrow, and didn't... and they freaked out because of it... well, fuck it, I'd chuck them a text letting them know that I was driving, or busy, or hated them, or whatever. Just so that they could chill the fuck out.

I would never leave someone hanging like that - but then, I know what it feels like to be bored, have depression and lie in bed half crying and reading 9gag all day whilst waiting for someone to text you that you just spent days worth of energy getting to like.

I'm clearly nuts.

***NEW CAMFREEBAY BLOG... THIS IS WHERE I'LL BE FROM NOW ON! ***

http://www.camfreebay.com/blog/ukgamegirl/

American Visit! Fancy Hanging Out With Me?

Alright lady friends, let's go through this.

I'm coming to America, for about 10 or 11 days. Probably around the 12th August to the 22nd. I'll most likely come in at JFK!

So, here are my stops.

1. New York
2. Florida
3. Tennessee
4. Oklahoma
5. Texas
6. Southern California

Here's what I'm asking for: $150 for FIVE HOURS with me, plus you buy me some breakfast, lunch or dinner while I'm with you, or my mood will suffer and I'll beat you up in the street.

Here are the terms and conditions:

• No sex. 
• I will carry a weapon and delight in killing you with it if you annoy me. 
• A deposit of $50 must be made once the plans are secure and a date is assigned to you so that I can book the flight!
• Failure to make payment will result in you being killed.
• Failure to buy me breakfast/lunch/dinner will result in you being killed.
• Don't be awkward.

Send an email to wtfgtfoplz@hotmail.com to register interest or book yourself in. Also... delight me with tales of American Mcdonalds... the cheeseburgers are so fat and cheesy.

***NEW CAMFREEBAY BLOG... THIS IS WHERE I'LL BE FROM NOW ON! ***

http://www.camfreebay.com/blog/ukgamegirl/

Grumpy Morning POF Profile

As always, remember that 'Hey', 'Hi', or indeed, 'Hello' will get you ignored... Because Screw You, that's why.

Just so you're aware, for the majority of people on here that message me I'd rather scoop out my own eyeballs and fill the sockets with jam and cream cheese, whilst rubbing my boobs against the hairy bumcrack of a lifelong smack head than actually spend one second of my time typing a word out that you'll benefit from reading.

I hate your faces. Your flabby attempts at six packs. The way you have NO GODDAMN IDEA what the difference is between 'your' and 'you're'. I absolutely hate your ridiculous and generic hobbies, likes and dislikes. I hate the way that you put 'music' and 'movies' as your interests... when I've never once spoken to someone who DIDN'T like any music or movies. They're the main forms of worldwide entertainment, you tit, of course you like them.

I hate when you ask if I want to chat, asking my permission to converse when you've already gone ahead and spammed my inbox with your bullcrap ramblings, so asking for permission is essentially pointless.


I like gamers, people that message once and then don't keep bothering me, bikers under 25 that still have hair. People that DON'T have their snapchat name on their profile because what kind of bottom feeding, pathetic little ballbag sucker actually just gives out their facebook, number or whatsapp? ANY thunder thighed, sperm burping gutter slut could call you. Are you so desperate that you're going to cast your net that damn wide? You're a fool, and a feeble one at that.

My mood suffers when I'm hungry in the mornings. You may or may not be able to tell. I'm really a lovely person, or whatever.

***NEW CAMFREEBAY BLOG... THIS IS WHERE I'LL BE FROM NOW ON! ***

http://www.camfreebay.com/blog/ukgamegirl/

Fuck Marine POF Profile

Oh, hey there, fart farmers.

Before we begin, know that if you just message 'Hey' or 'Hi' or, indeed, 'Hello', I'll ignore you. And please don't ask me how I am. You don't wanna know.

So, obviously I'm a couple sandwiches short of a picnic, hence why I'm giving up my day job to be a Marine Hunter. Yes, that's right, I'm going to plant attractive women on Plenty of Fish and wait until marines make plans and then start ignoring them on the day of aforementioned planned event. (By the way, mate, I fancy your friend with the dragon snake tattoo...) And then string them upside down by their ankles and feed them laxatives until they assplode in a shower of steriods, protein shake, chicken and wholemeal rice.

You're a dude, right, so you don't understand. But that is what they do. And then they just stay out of your way for the rest of your life, and ignore your messages... Like sackless, scrotum sucking, bumcrack snifflers.

WHY?!

Only the Baby Jeebus knows why, my friends. These are the men employed to have balls to save us from other dudes with balls... and they can't even let a girly down gently. But I'm quite finished being messaged by flakes, faggots, fatties and men who wear aviators and pout. 

There. I said it.

I'm sorry...

If you don't want to read this, don't. I honestly don't know what compels me to actually type this shit out. I'm so desperately reaching out for help that it looks completely ridiculous.

All of a sudden I don't want to write this stupid thing anymore, but just a few seconds ago I thought it was the best idea.

I'm going to lay it out there.

I'm going to take antidepressants because I'm so tired of trying to ride this out on my own.

But I know that what I'm riding out is just shitty feelings from being rejected, and unwanted, and trying to find someone that wants me. What a fucking ridiculous thing to be upset about.

I am actually ready to stop being alive today. I genuinely hope I don't wake up. For something as stupid as not being able to fuck the people I want to fuck?!

What's wrong with me? Why am I so damn childish and dependent and constantly looking for someone that wants to be my boyfriend. Why does rejection make me want to abandon living and why do I feel like shit when something that never even happened goes wrong?

I keep nearly crying, but then not crying... because what the hell would I cry for. I wish I'd stop typing, but I feel like if I keep going then eventually someone will go, "Aaah, actually... now I get you. That's totally legit."

I feel sick with hatred for my shitty personality, and my pathetic behaviour.

Burger Van Boys and MMA Guys

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I am SO sorry, Eyeballs of You.

I'm sorry to type more words at you today. Honest to Jeezaz, I feel really dreadful about it. But I'm doing it now, and like a half finished wank, I can't stop until I'm done otherwise it'll stress me out and probably make me sleep with someone that I don't really like.

Well, not really like that, but you understand.

So, I'm a total crybaby. Had you noticed? I just noticed. I was sitting at Jacks, shooting heroin into my eyeballs and smoking a hench crack pipe whilst enjoying a pure codeine enema (all at the same time, obviously) when I realised that I'm getting depressed about nothing.

Obviously, depression is a whimsical creature and sometimes sneaks up on you when everything should be lovely and sunny and sparkly with glittery flecks of joy - but I tend to let myself sink into it.

I made a video a couple years ago about CBT, and how it might help to stop me wallowing in shitty feelings. I'm naturally prone to dithering in it as I most of my life from 8 to 18 years old feeling alternately like shit, and then like someone told me I was a billionaire with a fast track pass to Disney World.

But I realised that I don't need CBT. I need to stop being a soppy shit stick with no back bone and get on with shit instead of dehydrating myself with tears and thinking of glorious ways to top myself that would both amaze and stun the world, and earn me a world record at the same time so that I can die in a blaze of miserable glory.

My sentences are too long.

This might be the lack of depression right at this moment talking... and I'll see how it goes before I cave and ask the doctor for one of the -pam family drugs, but bare with me.... I'll start being funny again one day.

FUCK today. FUCK YOU.

I am having THE shittiest day.

The boy I like is an arse clown (this is a different boy to the one I liked a few weeks ago, of course) and now I've been all stroppy at him. I want to turn around and run away as fast as possible when I start to feel like someone might be making a mug out of me.

Some cunt texted me and acted all weird and retarded when they realised I didn't know who they were. I will find out, and I'll destroy you so fast your eyeballs'll explode.

My fucking cupcakes didn't work properly, and now my massage bar has broken because I tried to get it out too early.

I have to pay for a mistake I made at work last week, meaning that I can no longer afford food with my wages tomorrow. What a treat.

Luke is being a fussy cunt because he thinks I'm seeing someone, and he's super overprotective and moody all of the time.

I can't find my Iphone anywhere, so I have to keep using this Nokia fucking Lumia that sucks wholesale quantities of cock.

I left my notebook at the warehouse, now I don't have ANY OF MY FUCKING NOTES and I'm going to go crazy without that thing because my stupid Arse-burgers means I get all jittery if I can't write my shit down.

FUCK YOU.

Now I'm going to call Howard and he'll have bad fucking news for me.

Shit Worries Me, Dudes...

I'm going to whine here...it's not going to be funny, or smart, or interesting. This is a disclaimer. Sold as fucking seen, absolutely no returns. No warranty given or implied.

I have a headache. I had so little to eat all day and then ate a curry and my belly went loopy and I got a headache. Why is that?

My cat just tried to take a piss on the carpet. That worries me... Why did he try to go there instead of in his litter tray?

I'm going to London this weekend. The cat pissing on the landlords lovely carpet whilst I'm away worries me.

I've got the hiccups. That worries me.

It's my second week in this house and already had to ask the landlord if I can pay my rent on Monday instead of Saturday because I need the petrol money to get to see my dad for Fathers Day. That worries me, but he's pretty chilled.

Jack is coming over later. I hope the landlord doesn't mind. That worries me.

Notice a theme here, kiddies?

Only annoying people with quiffs message me on Plenty of Fish. Guess what? That worries me.

My friend Tom just came back from Australia after it wasn't as awesome as he hoped it would be. He got in touch with me on Plenty of Fish. He said he made it just so he could get in touch again... I believe him. He says I was the last person he slept with. I believe him too... for various reasons that I shall not disclose here. That was a year ago. He had a proper cock block of a wingman in Australia - so he told me about all the times he nearly got to fuck someone but then didn't. He said I was so good that he doesn't even really want to sleep with anyone else. I know he's just kidding about that. He thinks he might want to settle down now. I wonder whether he's for serious. I hope so, actually. He's very funny, and he totally has the same sense of humour as me. He makes me laugh a lot - over silly things that lots of people might not get. We both have a motorbike and a van... we both run our own business... That's three whole things in common. I think about him too much.

I've lost my door key. That worries me, obviously.

My head fucking canes. http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=canes

What The Fuck Is A Lounge?!

Don't answer that - I don't give a flying fuck, really. MFC can tickle my testicles with its tonsils; it's the most corrupt place in all of Christendom.

I'm starving hungry. All I have is chocolate and yogurht. Yoghurt. Yoguhrt... It's NOT Yogurt. HA - Yogurt. What a funny word.

I'm going to go back to watching Nashville for an hour.

In the meantime, I need you to meet me in ten minutes behind Sainsbury's with a rifle, a large packet of pistachios and a dildo shaped like a bass guitar.

See you there.

Half Eaten Pitta Bread

I've decided to take my blog titles from the things that I have around me. Half eaten pitta bread just stood out to me, and seemed to link in nicely with all the things that I want to talk about. That is, my landlord, stomach bugs, moto vlogging and sexual relations. See how relevant it all is?!

Last night I woke up because something was banging in my room... and found my landlord sitting naked and cross legged on my floor. I was like, "What the hell?... Go away?" and he was like, "Okay, just give me a minute.." then waited a minute and got up and left. He came home drunk from a night out. Still unacceptable. I wonder what he'll say about it when he wakes up.

I've had a stomach bug for three days. I was only sick once, five hours after I started feeling ill... but the queasiness has lasted for days and days! URGH! Better today, hopefully all better tomorrow.

I need to get an SD card and a lapel mic to get my motovlogging thing done - but lapel mics are hard to find. I wish I'd just bloody got one of Amazon when I bought the cam and audio recorder, it could have been fucking sorted by now.

Sexual relations are great. I never have them anymore.

The End.

Pukeasaurus.

I had spag bol for tea today, cooked by my new housemate who used to be a chef. Then I got bloated and wibbly, and then felt sick. I rode as fast as I could to Tescos and got some Andrews salts, but they haven't helped at all. Now I teeter between feeling sick, and then feeling a little better for a while. Urgh.

Luckily, I'm not panicking. Maybe that's because I don't feel like I'm literally about to be sick - but pretty close. Maybe this will be one of those times that I don't have a panic attack whilst being sick.

I want to go to bed and read my book but I absolutely hate the idea of lying down; I know I'll instantly feel shit.

Okay - thanks for listening. I'm gonna hurl.

Moto Vlogging and Arse Fingering

Alright! Alright! Stop nagging at me for another blog post! (No one is nagging at me for blog posts...)

So, now I have a van. I'd post up pictures, but I don't want you to know my company, or you might spend all of your money there and end up homeless and with no teeth. It would be a shame for you to lose your home... and not even be able to do the Africa face, even, with your lovely teeth..

I'm still homeless. Yes, that's right, but I have so far kept all of my teeth. I type this from a McDonDons doorway, stealing their internet. I'd go in and get a coffee but I haven't the money because I spent it on the van and some sharpies to draw on it with. (I'm kidding - I'm typing this from a luxurious Jacuzzi bath.)

I'm looking for somewhere - but no joy so far. I hate when people fuck me about and waste my time. I turned down another house for that place (and they knew it, too) and then they backed out. That's messed up.

I liked a boy, but he didn't like me. I messaged him to tell him that he was behaving in a cowardly and pussy 'ole-ish manner... and he responded that he was just busy and everything was fine. That's a good thing - but he's so busy that I'm never going to get to see him anyway. I dreamed that he fingered my arse the other night. It was hot, for whatever reason. It was a threesome, but we totally just ignored this other guy. He was an arse fingering rookie and my dude was showing him how to do it properly... Fascinating stuff.

So, my motorbike is fine, also. She's still going - bless her soul. I spent £70 of amazing amazon gift vouchers (Thank you!!) today on a mountable camcorder and audio recorder so as soon as it arrives I'll get out on my lmaotorbike and start moto vlogging. I can't go too fast or anything because if I get famous (as I undoubtedly will, for being just the weirdest creature and singing in my helmet) I'll get done in by the rozzers, mate, so I'll be keeping the riding chilled out for the most part and just nattering on... but on my motorbike. You clearly get sick of my face and that's why you read my retarded blog instead.

Alright, I'm bailing out because I have a shit tonne of work to do. (I'm going to watch The Apprentice...)

Goodnight, creatures of the internet. Don't have heart attacks in your computer chairs until I get there.

An old blog on FatUglyorSlutty

So, after reading this article http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-18280000 and seeing this site http://fatuglyorslutty.com/ I have been in two minds about the whole thing.

 There's feminist Tammy (who barely exists but can understand where they're coming from, when they're not being completely ridiculous) and normal Tammy who faces the same shit every day that millions of women do and takes it in her stride... because that's being a actual strong woman - not bitching about being a female all the time.

So, firstly I think: Quit your fucking moaning. Women seem to be so self obsessed they assume everyone who is nasty is being nasty because they're female. What if (and I know it's hard to imagine seeing as you're so soft and smell like strawberries) those other people simply don't like you? They don't like your attitude, or they don't like the way you talk and conduct yourself. It's akin to the situations when I call someone a cock end and they ask, "Woaaah, time of the month?" Wow. As if some people must imagine there has to be some hormonal reason why I consider them to be retarded. Perhaps... perhaps you're just retarded and it's nothing to do with my hormones. I'm calling it as I see it, regardless of where my womb lining is at the moment. You can't suggest to a dude that it must be his hormones when he decided to smack you in the face, so what's his excuse? Exactly, maybe you're just a prick.

Anyway, put simply: many female gamers have a huge chip on their shoulder, coupled with the idea that they're not only the sole female gamer in the universe, but also gods gift to gaming (and men) simply because you've got excess breast tissue and a wizards sleeve. That attitude makes people target you because it's disgusting, quite frankly.

However, I imagine that these women begin perfectly nicely. All female voice (trying to sound sexy?) and talking about girly stuff. Even worse, trying to fit in with the blokes on the game. "HA, yeah... tits... love 'em. Good old titties, eh?" Okay, so what exactly is your reason for needing to speak on Xbox Live? You know you get abuse hurled at you (whether because you're female or just fucking annoying) but you continue to speak out loud knowing that it's going to awaken the troll and pervert in everyone online. I think it's an attention seeking thing. I play Xbox Live and I listen to the chat, but I don't talk. I'm usually in a private chat with some friends while playing with them, and everyone else on the game. Would it hurt you to just... not be known as a female? Do you need to have the name, "SexyStacy2001"? Do you need to use constant smiley faces and giggle? I don't think so. If those guys didn't know you were female, they'd ignore you and that bothers you more than any abuse could.

I wonder if, after a session with the guys hurling abuse and you stammering back what you believe to be scathing retorts, you feel satisfied. Or, do you feel like shit? You made a fool of yourself. It was ten guys against one puny little girl. You're not even particularly good at the game. Any nice comments were from the fat guys that assumed they could form a long lasting friendship that would last well into the night and result in naked pictures. Pictures that they would be inevitably disappointed with as I've yet to see a genuine female GAMER (not one of those ones who played WoW for a month, thinks they rule Halo or takes pictures of themselves seductively sucking their Xbox controller) who was actually hot.

So clearly, my anti feminist side has taken the lead here. I'm sure I'm wrong. There are real life female gamers who just want to be able to chat on xbox live while they play a game. Why shouldn't they be able to? Sure, it's a male dominated world, but why should it be? I shouldn't have to just sit and listen to the chat while not being able to speak for fear of having every male start throwing his shit around like an aggravated monkey.

However, if you'd pull your eyes away from your tits long enough to take a look at any youtube video of COD (and your ears from wherever they happen to be...) you'll notice it's not just you that gets abuse. It's everyone. Every man, woman, child that chooses to speak will at some point be subjected to, "Suck a dick, you fucking faggot. God, you SUCK at this game." It's just that when a smart arse woman's voice comes on, they begin to formulate more appropriate insults.

Whatever. The point is, suck it up. Everyone gets insulted. It's a male world and you'll never fit in. Just enjoy the game enough that it doesn't matter.

Last point is just about the website, Fatuglyorslutty.com. What a stereotypically female thing to do. That's just like women: Get shouted and bitched at, APPARENTLY dominate the whole game and the whole chat with your crippling wit and mad skillz and then cry on the internet about it. How bitchy can you get? Bless them, all grouping together like a flock of seagulls just shot in the tits by some kids with a BB gun. I know you all think you're just laughing about it, but it seems to me they hurt you. They got to you, you're feeling insecure and you need your gal pals to fake laugh along with you because in the end you've come out top. Only... you haven't. You look like a hurting pussy and everyone can see it.

Essay on "20 Ways To Stop Procrastinating" - By Tam Tam

"Never put off until tomorrow what can be done today." - Thomas Jefferson

Procrastination is one of the least awesome things that exists. Time stolen while procrastinating is not actually enjoyable time, but only guilt-ridden and dirty. No-one does anything interesting or important during this time. I, for example, smoke a lot of cigarettes, doodle in my notebook and have small panic attacks. Other people may pair up socks, move objects from one place in the house to the other or even just simply sit and stare into space with a frown.

In this essay, I am going to cover twenty ways in which we can eliminate procrastination from our lives. Some techniques may be physical, while others mental. It is not only a mental attitude that can drive us to complete tasks without hesitation, but also habit. There are many situations and professions where there may be more temptation to procrastinate rather than get on with a task. Being self-employed, for one, means that there is no boss standing over you and making sure that you get your days tasks done. It's very easy to say, "Well, today I've checked all my emails and responded to them already... and I know I have to fill out my tax returns but it's hard to do that without a sharp pencil so I'll sharpen all of them because I may as well - while I'm sharpening one anyway..." As you can see, procrastination logic leaves a lot to be desired, while also being surprisingly justifiable. Hopefully, with these techniques we can make this state of mind seem so totally unnecessary that we can cut all procrastination from our lives.


Technique One: Lack of Thought

This technique is fairly simple and involves… just doing it. Not thinking about the task ahead, nor considering what may need to be done but simply taking yourself to the place where the task needs to be accomplished and doing it before the will to sit down and read the instruction manual for Crysis 2 becomes overwhelming. This usually works better with physical tasks rather than mental suck as clearing out the garage, mowing the garden or tidying up.


Technique Two: Set Yourself Small Breaks – that you then forget about.

By having small breaks during your task, you force yourself to begin at once. You’ll most likely find that when your break time approaches, you’ll feel little need for one now that you’ve begun the task. Remember: getting up and getting started is the hardest part. Once you’ve jumped in, it’s usually not as bad as you imagined it would be!


Technique Three: I’m procrastinating.

My techniques are too good. I have things to be getting on with…

Whiny Blog. That's right, let's have a change from the usual upbeat shit...

I'm seriously going to write a whiny blog. If you like funny blogs, or interesting blogs, or blogs about different types of hair and nails... well, you're sucking on a big ol' bloggy cock that's ready to blow a hot load of creamy disappointment right down your throat.

This is a whiny blog.

I hate Plenty of Fish. I just keep looking for someone who's an exact replica of Matt or MMA guy. Everyone with a six pack is a retard. I think MMA guy may have been the only person with a six pack who is also marginally intelligent. I found an old phone that I used to use the other day and it had Matt's number and MMA guys... I deleted them straight away to stop temptation but I think I can get them back. Matt's gone to Australia, but I bet MMA guy is still here.... I wonder if he has a girlfriend now. I hated him, though.

I've met plenty of nice people on there, and honestly I don't know why I'm still on it. I don't have the time for it, unless they're amazing and so far no one is amazing enough to take a huge amount of time to put into it so they get upset and stop talking to me.

I'm putting together my business properly, and that's probably going to be alright but I'm so tired today. It's raining and cold and I have to move house this evening and I just want to throw myself upon my sword. That's how all the cool kids are doing it these days... swords... and throwing...

I'm so tired. I think I said that but I want to make sure you understand. I'm so very tired. Not tired from lack of sleep... just tired from trudging uphill for the last 6 months or so.

I'm going to start doing podcasts soon, because it's so much more fun than just typing. I only get an hour a day at most to myself and I usually fall asleep during it.

I need a hug.

Hey look... a big ol' pair of titties!

I need to employ a poly-phasic sleep cycle in which I sleep for 20 minutes every 4 hours. That way I can have more time to do things.

I can't believe I waste 8 hours a day drooling on my own face and farting whilst thinking about unnecessary things and strange situations. And I can't believe I waste another 8 hours a day sleeping...

I made myself laugh.

So, at the moment I'm trying to get my new business running properly which takes a lot of time, believe it or not. I don't know if you've ever had to think of 20 new cosmetic products, source British suppliers for packaging, design labels, source the ingredients and work out how much you need whilst making sure that everything you make will convince a room full of middle aged ladies to heartily part with their cash... but it takes time.

I worked three days this week too, at my other job. Plus I'm moving house today (Friday) because I need to get out of my old one, and then again next Friday when I have a van and have found somewhere else to move to... That'll be 11 moves in two years. Fuck it, I may as well just get a horse and live on the Moors.

I don't know why I keep kidding myself into thinking I'm not a wandering gypsy traveler. I move every couple of days, sell everything that's worth money and talk like a drunken Australian hobo. Plus I like dags. Do you like dags?

So.. cam is going well though. It's nice to be back although luckily I'm busy in my brain also or the occasional  cock-like, insistent thrusts of hurt, disappointment and confusion would drive me bonkers.

I... I need a holiday. I never thought I'd say that but I really do just need a couple weeks in 28c sun and some delicious drinks and doughnuts. Maybe a cake. A bit of carrot cake. And a sandwich. Cheese and pickle, or maybe Spanish cheese and quince paste.

Urgh, I love quince paste.

I lied about the titties.

A Bit Mad...

You know when you play tag with someone on a long motorway journey in your car...? Yeah. When they turn off I get upset, because I don't want them to go away.

If I had a penny for every time I've nearly gotten myself killed chasing another biker just because I want them to like me as much as I've decided I like them within two seconds of finding out that they exist... I could buy some penny sweets.

So.. Obviously, being a cam whore sucks because every now and then you get a sharp reminder that someone you like doesn't think you're as special as you thought they did... And you're just another model to them.

Some MFC guys matter to me... Some don't. I guess to some of them I matter... And to some of them I don't, actually.

You Might Wanna Skip This One...

SO, I'm having a trip to London this week. I need some Thai Food from a dude that says, "Yu have faive disheees... what yu want?" "Eh.. I'll have some of that rice please.." "And theeeeeen?!" "Uh... and then some of that chicken please." "And theeeeeeeen?!" "Do you know you're being stereo-typically Asian and hilarious?" "Yes. And theeeeeeeen?"

I'm totally uprepared. I have no idea what's going on, what I'm taking... I would have liked to have been able to take some London tourist soaps down, but I can't get hold of the ingredients fast enough. I would love to take Howard his party planning gift set but I don't have it at the moment. I'm just trying not to think about it.

My tea tastes like pepper, for whatever reason.

Just in case you wanted to know what was happening in my future it is this:

Next Week: Start camming on MFC again. What  fun.
Next Week: Take private stuff also, because... because I can.
When Bike Money Comes Through: Buy a van and fix the bike up enough to keep riding it.
Today: Punch kittens in their underbellies and eat sweeties.

I'm starting a cam site soon also, hopefully. It's going to be lots of fun. You'll see....

It's going to be so amazing having a van. I'll pick things up in the van, and carry things in the van... and that's about the extent of it, but how cool is that?! So, if you have a little Berlingo sized thing for less than a grand, let me know.

This was the most boring blog in history. I'm very upset with myself about it.

Me vs African Child

Yesterday, I tried to clean my ears and one of them has gone deaf. I think I did very bad.

Maybe if it's an ear infection, the antibiotics that I'm taking anyway for my tonsillitis might help clear it up? I did that once after I went swimming. I got an infection, then scratched my ear drum with a cotton bud and made it really bad. Anyway, I'll be taking them for another three days, even though my tonsils are fine now...

I went to bed at 2am (I stayed up with my friend on Skype discussing possibilities because I want to start my own cam site!) and got woken up at 9am by this text conversation:

Him: I love my Tammy very much.
Him: Now get up!
Me: WHAT??!?!?!?!
Him: Oh dear, I've made you cross... :(
Me: You woke me up. Of course I'm cross. What do you want?
Him: I want nothing, thanks.
Him: Sorry

O.o I understand now what was happening but... but... at the time I was mad as a march hare. I jumped out of bed and thumped around the room and slammed my tail against things and set stuff on fire and all sorts.

Oh, I think I just remembered a little of my dream!

Aaaand, it's gone.

In a minute I need to walk two miles to the nearest shop to get food... like an African child. But two miles instead of 15 miles in the gentle, mild day rather than the scorching sun. And to travel to local shop stocking plenty of food and water, rather than a dirty broken well filled with festering water. And I have some money to buy goods... and they often... do not.

Fuck it, they should still make an advert for me.

It would seem that I suck cock.

I drew this today. No one seems to like it.

Please tell me why not.

Thank you.

I'm introducing myself here... if you care.

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POF Profile 2 - Quiz

HA! I can't believe how many people say, "I like music, films, dancing with my friends. Anyway, that's enough because I don't want you to know everything about me before we even meet!"


WOAH, what?! The two main forms of entertainment and dancing and we've nearly covered everything that you're about? Holy sh!t, that is depressing.


But I've begun to notice that there are three types of people in the world today. The Simpletons, The Pretentious Try Hards, and The Nutters. Which are you?


It's Friday night. What would you like to do, and what do you end up doing?


a) I'd like to do a hot girl with big tits, but I end up doing a girl that looks like she kissed a moving freight train... with thunder thighs. Her thighs.. not the trains.

b) I'd like to listen to some good music with my friends, watch four movies, eat loads of food and post the pictures on Facebook. I end up doing that.

c) I'd like to kill myself. I end up watching TV in my pants and eating peanut butter on garlic bread.


Okay. A hot girl walks past. What do you do?


a) Slam jam her f*ck hole, if she'll let me.

b) Hey, I'm not that kind of guy! There are still good guys out there, you know. I'd just walk by and if she wants to chat, she'll chat to me.

c) What? I was thinking about McDonalds apple pies... so everyone just looks like an apple pie.


I'm hungry. GET ME SOME FOOD RIGHT NOW! Please...?


a) EH, fu' dat mayte, u carn't boss me round li' and jus' tell me wot to do n sh!t. I went to college fur a hole week, u no.

b) OH YES, what can I get you? I'm really great at cooking, so just let me know what you'd like and I'll make it for you :)

c) I keep burgers in my pants. *Pulls out a double cheeseburger from pants* You're welcome to it.


I tell you that you're super annoying and I'm done hanging around with you.... What do you say?


a) PFFFT, I'm late to **** someone anyway. Girls love back acne... it's the new thing. I've never been so popular.

b) I don't understand...? I'm not upset, I'm just confused... We could have had something really good here... Just stay and talk to me, please...

c) Nothing. You've put me in your kangaroo pouch and now we're bouncing through town whilst you stroke my hair. You know I can't resist that.


---


If you got mostly A's... then you're a SIMPLETON! Congratulations, you're a cretin and you never even realised. Everything about you is basic, you have trouble tying your own shoelaces and eventually you'll screw a fat girl and lock your self into 20 years of bring up a scrawny little scrote of a child that spits in your face and hits. Yes... that's right... your child is a hitter.


If you got mostly B's... then you're a PRETENTIOUS TRY HARD! Actually, you're way more annoying than anyone else in the entire universe. You think you're so goddamn different to everyone else. Your love of alternative music, perhaps, or the fact that you can cook makes you think you're gods gift to women. You're so kind, so thoughtful and all your friends think you're funny, too! You outwardly project an exciting and interesting life, that in reality is even more boring than the old school films you insist on watching in an attempt to make people think that you're artistic and all that bullsh!t. You really are a useless quim and I hate you with every fiber of my being. Don't talk to me.


If you got mostly C's... then you're a NUTTER! Yeah, you're bonkers. But, it's okay. I'll have you for a week, two weeks maximum. Sometimes simpletons and pretentious try hards mistakenly think that they are in the nutter category... but if this happens, I'll just ignore you. If you double message, I'll start hurling insults and if you're ugly too then I'll take a crap through your letter box.

POF Profile 1

Alright. I'm going to be totally serious with you now.

You're all completely barking mad. Over the past 6 months since breaking up with my boyfriend (whom I found on Plenty of Fish, actually) I have met over 4 of Britain's Most Outrageously Broken People.  Stay a while and listen; it's an interesting story if nothing else.

This consisted of one gorgeous but insecure nutter with who was so insecure he got a motorbike after we broke up... because he honestly thought I would sleep with anyone with a bike. (Actually, he was right to do that though. Any biker has a shot - even those adorably chavvy motox kids on pit bikes).

Then I let some sh!t stain come and hang out with me because I had nothing better to do, and spent several hours talking about how hot the women on TV were, burping like a little frog, slurping his tea with the spoon still in it, trying desperately to get me naked (not something I was feeling at the time, believe it or not) and texting other girls to arrange an alternative session. For the life of me I cannot figure out why he's still single.

Alright, so then it was some guy who could not - I repeat COULD NOT - keep it in his pants. He just couldn't commit. "If I meet someone that I just HAVE to sleep with I will!" he would exclaim. And then leave and sleep with someone else. Until the last couple months where he held down a relationship for a few weeks... and then started sleeping around again. So... my conclusion is that I'm such a useless, stupid, ugly creature that I can't keep him while some random slag can. That's really bumming me out.

And very swiftly that notion has been reenforced when only today some kid decided to hang out with me all day, take a break for an hour to go and kiss and fat girl (that he assured me was his friend) and then COME BACK TO ME!

Then we have the London Boys - both World of Warcraft players. Number One being a huge slut that honestly expected me travel to London to sleep with him even after he said "I live in the family home now since breaking up with my ex a month ago... but don't worry. I have loads of people round."

And the Number Two, who blocked me for no reason. JUST... WHO THE HELL DOES THAT?!

Now another one talked to me for a day and deleted himself. I... I couldn't make this sh!t up, dudes. I wish I was, though.

Fascinating subjects, one and all. Obviously, on top of that we have my best friend who's been in love with me for two years, my whore of an ex who moved away to Australia, some other kid who moved away to Australia also. Because I hear that Australia is the goddamn place to be right now.

So... you've made it this far. Me whining about all the ridiculously annoying and practically special needs people from PoF. "Why?" I hear you ask. "Why waste profile space on making yourself sound like an intolerant slut instead of shamelessly hawking your wares?!"

I'll tell you.

It's because you smell.