Bitch on the Blog

December 30, 2011

From Russia

Filed under: Errors — bitchontheblog @ 18:03
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I have just dropped a glass. By accident. It doesn’t work if you do it on purpose.

I am not superstitious – which doesn’t stop me from being quietly, satisfyingly, pleased every time I break a plate. Where there are shards, in my book, there is luck. Am now on tenterhooks. Not impatiently so. Just confident a loose roof tile will NOT fall onto my head.

In 1982 I broke a mirror. It wasn’t by design. I was incensed. And the mirror (large) was the first to come to hand between my fury and the object of my desire. A few months later we got married. They say breaking a mirror signifies seven years of bad luck ahead. Don’t believe a word of it. We lasted 13.



December 28, 2011

Sitting duck

Filed under: Fairy Tales — bitchontheblog @ 15:04
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Sweet and Sour Hearts, we live in dangerous times. I am on the warpath. Pen poised. Paper in place. Yes, RESOLUTIONS.

There is always a first time for everything – a worrying thought – and this year I shall march resolutely across the threshold of an old to a new year with my banner of that which will NOT fail firmly in place. No, but thanks for asking, the banner is not blank. It’s crowded. It’s so crowded that the odd resolution falling by the wayside will not be noticed.

Good luck to you too.

Hugs and kisses,


December 25, 2011

Your Miss Marple to my Watson

Filed under: Friends — bitchontheblog @ 12:35
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Just had startling thought. Will now have to rethink blossoming career as a crime writer. It’s annoying.

Why would anyone murder anyone?

Let the thought melt. Let its aftertaste linger. Before you jump in with an answer.

It doesn’t make sense. Leaving aside crimes of passion, heat of the moment, perversions, why would I risk execution or sitting my days out in the claustrophobia of a cell because someone has evoked my wrath?

It amounts to that trite, yet true,  “cutting off your nose to spite your face/ shooting oneself in the foot.” The person who might hope to be killed by my own fairly strong hands does not exist. Do I look stupid or something? Why would I give YOU the satisfaction?

Yes, I know it’s Christmas. And my Ode to the Tree, as yet not written, will be forthcoming. However, you can’t blame my brain for fermenting the most profound whilst making pastry.

Back to Bach.


Pined, needled or whatever other title you can think of for this waste of space

Filed under: Errors — bitchontheblog @ 12:31

I don’t like myself any longer. Lost my favourite scarf. Considering that, apparently, “loss” is a major theme in my life I should not be surprised. However, it caught me unawares. I had not planned for that particular scarf to be lost.

Yesterday I nearly lost my life – or at least my spine. No bull. No sooner had I remarked, in passing, to one of the Angel’s friends that one of these days I shall meet a truck –  two hours later I was a nano second away from being scraped off the tarmac. So don’t say I am not lucky. And never, as we say in the motherland, paint the devil on the wall. Or you may meet hell. First antechamber. Until you get promoted.

The Angel doesn’t find my musings funny in the least. Neither do I.


December 20, 2011


Filed under: Happiness — bitchontheblog @ 16:15

“Wile E. Coyote runs off the cliff and fails to fall because it does not occur to him to look down.”

Brilliant. I knew there was something an ostrich,  Wile E. Coyote and I have in common.


December 14, 2011

Error of judgment

Filed under: Despair — bitchontheblog @ 07:20

12 hours on – I am still badly shaken. Hope it’ll wear off.

Pride comes before the fall? Sure. I am proud – as I believe most people are and should be. Yesterday, I was humiliated. Utterly. To my very core. That in itself not remarkable. It happens. However, in this case there was no need for it. Easy target.  I could cry. Not so much about being humiliated or being kicked but how very much I misjudged someone. I cannot believe it. I CAN NOT believe it. It’s one of those landmarks I know will be burning its mark into the fabric of my life.

You do know, of course, that the most powerful and baffling of the seasoned who, where, when and how is the mighty WHY? Why – the element of mystery and speculation.

Will now go and torture myself,


December 13, 2011


Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 14:01
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Like the rest of you, will write soppy Christmas post soon – with a bit of luck before Christmas.

In the meantime I would like to reassure my readers that my sloppily, spur of moment, throwing any thought of mine on the blogging page is no mark of disrespect [for you, the reader]. It’s a mark of trust.

If, like most of you or so it appears, I put forethought, chiselling my words, editing and all manner of perfectionism into it, you’d never see a word of me. Why? Because I am a perfectionist. It’s all or nothing.

So this blog is nothing. Otherwise it wouldn’t exist.


December 11, 2011

Vacant occupation

Filed under: Communication,Despair,Sex — bitchontheblog @ 10:22
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Sweethearts, I’ve lost it.

There is so much I’d like to say, convey. It’s all too much. Spoilt for choice. So let’s just stick with the base.

By no stretch of the imagination do I think I have seen it all. I don’t want to see it all. I like to keep some innocence, some wonderment, the chance of a surprise, intact. You will be caught unawares:  On recommendation of a trusted source I dived into the blog of a big arsehole (you may take this in its literal meaning). Though by all his accounts he does give good head too.  I am not particularly interested in what use people put orifices to: Do what you must, spare me the detail. Though will always pass you a roll of toilet paper should you run out.  So far so boring. Butt (!), and here is the twist, he is bi-sexual yes, really. Talk about a pain in the …., only doubled. An expert. Sweet.

What’s so awful, and please do not spare me your feedback, I can feel urge rising to puncture that guy’s balloon –  badly. And I mean badly. The way he waxes lyrically wants me to punch him.  Naturally, and clinging to remnants of civilized behaviour, I will “internalise” this into one of those many dialogues I hold in my head. Should I ever combust I will have proven my theory that it’s better to let it all hang out than keep it in. Not that I am a candidate for bowel cancer (yet).

Totsy, Phil, if the last sentence leaves you baffled as to its hidden meaning I am more than happy to expand.


December 6, 2011

Red carpet in shreds

Filed under: Communication,Friends — bitchontheblog @ 19:56
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If last Monday’s post went with a bang yesterday’s  Monday morning has me whimper.

No sooner had I slagged off those prizes bloggers award each other – in my reply to a comment the drop dead gorgeous Charles had left me – along comes aka Little Miss Mischief aka La Tease and drops one hell of a clanger: I find myself the unhappy recipient of “The Versatile Blogger Award”. I wish I could hide like my two year old self behind my mother in the folds of her full skirt, pout and say “I don’t want it” (insert teary note). “Darling, don’t be silly. You like spinach so you’ll always be able to stomach the unpalatable. Say thank you.” Finger in mouth, eyes full of suspicion:  “Don’t want to.”

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Which doesn’t make any economical sense. Unless you immediately take a gift horse to the slaughter house and reform it into salami you will need to feed, water and exercise it. In modern lingo this translates into: “There is no such thing as a free lunch.” Am now in existentialist crisis: Do I go down in history as a blogging scrouge who doesn’t have it in her heart to play by the rules (of others); or do I  humour the blogging community like a circus clown on his way out? Do I stick to principles or do I shrug my shoulders and say “Whatever.” ? Maybe I could rent some space in the broom cupboard one blogger has so lovingly created for her many awards.

Insert sigh.  I am in trouble. Confession time: First of all, I read few, and I mean few, blogs on a regular basis. Since I am terrific friendship material I tend to keep it small, and loyal. Not that I don’t throw parties, and please do gate crash. I will find the odd pearl in the crowd, even among those who do use my, as yet unread, Times as toilet paper.  It is quite awful: I feel another attack of scathing coming on. I’ll keep it for a day when I run out of bile. Also, and this is no excuse, amongst my most cherished blogging chums there are those already flooded with awards, and now do – as only the saturated will – refuse them. Or maybe they have run out of things to tell you about themselves. Which the more observant among you will notice I have already done up there, if somewhat in disguise.

And, I am such a mean cow I don’t want to share my friends with all and sundry. Look what happened to Charles. No sooner was he freshly pressed he (being diligent) was reduced to answering (intelligently) hundreds of comments. I don’t like being a crumb among many on the baking sheet of someone’s life so I retreated to the kitchen and baked some of his Italian biscuits instead. And no, I didn’t weep into the pastry. Sometimes you have to let those you care for off on a long leash. Or take the leash off altogether.

Where were we: Free lunch, trade off:  Naturally, to link like crazy to other blogs is not only a cheap marketing exercise, it is also a  way of spying on who I read outside my immediate circle. The last sentence sounds more complicated than it is. All my life, literally from when I was tiny, I have had three very different circles of friends on the boil. Their backgrounds not only not overlapping, but none of them knowing of each other. Yes, I know it’s ludicrous but makes for a slightly less complicated life to keep those in the higher echelons of elevated snobiety of intellect and creativity from sneering at the easy pleasers and the streetwalkers.

Some of my friends (and family) are such snobs that if they knew that I entertain a blog, how vulgar, they’d cut me off there and then. Don’t think I have just handed you the perfect tool to blackmail me. I haven’t.

What else is totally useless information about me:

A few years ago, in the early days of our courtship, a dear sweet man, so full of disdain for the world (what do you expect from someone who adores Huysman?) yet so vulnerable, him of Irish/Trinidadian extraction, a Canadian with perfect diction, sent me a “Mother’s Day” card. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.  He is gay. That way we are both safe.

When I was three I swallowed (by accident) a flat round button. It was white. That’s when I learnt two things: Not everything is digestible. And what will go in will come out. And oh did it not glow so in the dark.

So yes, since most of my blogging creme de la creme knows each other anyone else just snoop around in the comment boxes, and link. One of my believes: What you need will find you. And I have found true treasure in the last few months.


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