Bitch on the Blog

March 26, 2012

Serial blogging

Filed under: Happiness — bitchontheblog @ 21:33
Tags: , ,

Years ago my brother sent us a computer game, and it was so wonderful I played it whenever I needed to diffuse (like mid afternoon): You had to be bloody damn fast to shoot a lot of chickens. They [the chickens] winging it across the screen, yet looking so friendly, inviting you to shoot them. So  I never felt any guilt at all the carnage. Neither did I have a dog to collect the bounty. There were a few windmills too. Obliterating them didn’t give you that many points. Not that that stopped me from aiming.

A much cherished computer game the Angel and I used to play together (can’t remember the title, and the Angel currently not present to jog my memory), the challenge was to cross a busy road without being squashed. Hedge hog fashion. In a more benign version, though under threat of drowning, you had to have presence of mind to jump from fast moving  log to fast moving log trying to cross a river. The other challenges have gone down the drain of memory lost.

That’s blogging for you.




  1. Never worked out the appeal
    suduko for bored people I think!

    Comment by finlaygray — March 26, 2012 @ 22:04 | Reply

    • Hold your chickens, John. Believe me I carefully weighed the pros and cons of what I wrote considering that I visit your farmyard every morning. You may say you are my early morning Rooster. Just hope Tom, the Hippo, isn’t going to read the last sentence. Or Chris for that matter.

      Shooting chickens is fast, Soduku SLOW. Not my thing, not that I have ever given it a chance. Please don’t tell anyone I said that. When the time comes I will take up crosswords.

      At the moment not so much necks to wring as trying not to feel sea sick when looking at the horizon (mine). Which reminds me: Why do they say “wringing a chicken’s neck”? As far as I can make out, not least by your description, you PULL. One of these days (like now) I will tell you about my three year old self being attacked by the (relative to my size at the time) Tyrannus Rex of all chickens. There I was, dreamily minding my own business, crossing the court yard, when TR Chick took a shine to the apple I was munching, fluttering up into my face. I am not easily scared but the shock attack did make me cry. So far so good. But when the guy next door whose chicken it was laughed at me that was one stretch too far for my young self. I reserve a particular, possibly only hatred of my life, for the humiliation he served up.

      Apropos of nothing: As a young (and ambitious) bride I learnt how to bone a chicken without so much as breaking a sweat (mine) or its [the chicken’s] skin. I love your menagerie, John; particularly now that I am 5 ft five or six or I don’t know.

      Leaving the rooster’s early morning call aside, I have always loved that gock gock gock clucking noise that chicken make. And just to declare my hand: If I can’t afford a “happy” chicken and its egg I rather go without. Expensive, don’t you think, to have a conscience. Same with pigs.

      Yes, love your homely blog. Greetings to Aunt Glad.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 26, 2012 @ 22:44 | Reply

  2. Er… um… can I buy a vowel? Oh wait, wrong game. I love the fact that I am perpetually confused by your posts, and that your categories and tags are of little help in the clue department. Sudoku puzzles are far more logical and easier to solve.

    Comment by Phil — March 26, 2012 @ 22:58 | Reply

    • My dear Phil, you don’t need to BUY a vowel. You can have a dozen or two for free. Have you ever noticed how those few vowels support so many consonants? Without vowels consonants wouldn’t be able to make themselves understood. Which reminds me: For some reason both my n and m on the keyboard are fading. The theory that this is because both of them are served by a stabbing index finger doesn’t hold. My J, R, T, Y, and U are perfectly intact. Have I confused you again?

      Yes, I don’t know. When I write “proper” apparently my prose is as clear and concise as crystal water. Some people decline to talk to me, preferring me writing to them instead. Yet, on my blog (and other people’s comment boxes) I appear to go doolally. Stream of consciousness as GG used to call it. Until he went right off me. What do I know. Call it what you like. All I know is that I know what I am talking about. That might sound selfish. It isn’t. The moment you yourself do not know what you are talking about is the moment to shut up.

      Since I do anything for an easy life I don’t do Soduko (I don’t even know how to spell it).. Neither do I have the time. Every week my mother solves something that would test my patience to the limit. It’s called, roughly translated, and I hope it will convey the meaning: “To think round the corner”. You are given a cryptic clue and then despair. Not her, me. I am sure it keeps her grey cells in good shape and also a pleasure which escapes me (give me another twenty or thirty years and I’ll get there). If anything I’d rather write the damn things than solve them. In fact, considering that no one, not even you, “understands” me I’d be perfect for the job of creating cryptic cross word puzzles. Will give what might amount to a career move some consideration.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 26, 2012 @ 23:36 | Reply

      • It’s spelled Sudoku. Not that time consuming, less than 10 minutes for an easy, 15 minutes for a medium, and maybe 20 minutes or so for a difficult level. They are a nice little exercise in logic keeping the mind sharp, and are a lot more fun than the boring truth tables from logic and philosophy classes.

        Comment by Phil — March 27, 2012 @ 04:05 | Reply

        • I spoke in jest: I know how to spell that mindbender Just checking if you were paying attention (insert dreaded winking smiley).

          No doubt it keeps one’s mind sharp. Now I could take this, as I do, two ways: I could say that, like my pencils, I don’t like my mind too sharp. Or I could say that my mind is so sharp if I sharpened it any further it would become a dangerous weapon and I’d need a licence to employ it.


          Comment by bitchontheblog — March 27, 2012 @ 07:44 | Reply

          • I’m not sure the pencil analogy works here. The more you sharpen a pencil and put it to good use, the quicker it shrinks down in size until you have to toss it away. Sharpness? I’m not so sure that a sharp mind is any more dangerous than a dull one when employed as a weapon. One cuts incisively to the core, the other is only capable of bludgeoning in crude manner. Let me ponder that for a while.

            I realize you know how to spell, but was amused at both you and Fin exhausting all the various vowel iterations of the word’s spelling. I wonder if any of the misspelled variants means something entirely naughty or funny… (insert ‘playful astonishment’ emoticon)

            Comment by Phil — March 27, 2012 @ 12:29 | Reply

            • No, no, Phil, the pencil analogy works very well (for me). First of all: I have at least twenty on the go at any one time Staedtler Noris HB2, preferably the ones with the rubber tip at the other end.. To wear down a pencil (or twenty) takes some doing. And I do write more than my shopping list.

              So I lovingly sharpen my pencils from time to time, all of them forming an orderly queue (after all we are in Britain), by hand, and with one of those tiny metal wonders of precision. Whilst the wrist action and its resulting shavings satisfying, once you have finished the pencils will be very very very sharp. Usually resulting in the tiny tip snapping OFF on first impact on paper. That’s the – aesthetically and practically – unpleasant part. Then there is that wonderful stage at which it’s just right (till it’s blunt again – see above). I have never measured the lifetime of one of my pencils but they do have stamina.

              What were we talking about? If there are two things in my life (apart from all the others) which carry me away on a wave of enthusiasm and passion it’s pencils and A4 spiral notebooks (lined). Why lined? I need some stability, something to hold onto lest I fall off the page.

              Of course, you are right: The blunt when, say, trying to pierce a passing ant is useless. And, yes, to be knifed by the blunt is also extremely painful as any cook who doesn’t keep his knives in good repair knows. However, and I am not quite sure where this fits into any logic: The only still visible scar (across my left ring finger’s tip) was inflicted by a freshly bought butcher’s knife. It was so sharp there was no pain when I sliced myself. None. It was only when my guests looked at me in horror I realised that I was bleeding down my dress like a pig at point of slaughter.

              Other than that: The Fin aka John and I do not need to speak in Morse code. Just put more lls (as in Llewellyn) into one word than one would have thought strictly necessary. and John is your man in Wales. Or more likely Tom’s. And I can only imagine which of his various chicken coops he’ll put me in when the time comes. Not that I’ll lay any eggs.

              Talking about the Welsh, and, yes, I do go on about voices: Ever listened to Richard Burton reading “Under the Milkwood”?


              Comment by bitchontheblog — March 27, 2012 @ 18:21 | Reply

  3. I believe your blog will long be remembered like the truly challenging ‘weaving in and out of blog traffic’. I like your comparisons especially if I have to think for just a moment.

    Comment by writingfeemail — March 26, 2012 @ 23:22 | Reply

    • Look no further than my reply to Phil. I may take up being an enigma as a sideline, a welcome diversion. I am sure it won’t pay but at least I won’t be able to complain that no one understands me.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 26, 2012 @ 23:40 | Reply

  4. I can’t say I have ever seen a hedge hog…so am clueless as to their fashion and gun-shy too. My time for crosswords is here.

    Comment by winsomebella — March 27, 2012 @ 03:03 | Reply

    • My dear Bella, you have NEVER seen a hedgehog? Quelle horreur. They are lovely though a bit prickly when provoked. It’s the one animal that will have a cat foxed.

      Should you ever find a hedgehog in your garden (it could could happen; remember ET?) don’t give it any milk. It’s not good for them.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 27, 2012 @ 07:50 | Reply

  5. This link is for Bella:

    I have never understood the appeal of these computer games, nor for that matter, of Sod Oku or what ever it is called…. I have been known to lose myself in a game of Patience and have recently found something called Free Cell. Every Sunday and Monday I undergo the torture of the Crossword (So aptly named) on behalf of ‘She who thinks she must be obeyed’. Most of my family refuse to play card games with me because I always try to win (the same goes for chess at which, in reality, I am next to useless).

    How do people here feel about General Knowledge Quizes? For years i avoided Quiz Nights because I hate it when the Quiz Master, it’s 99% certain to bea “master”, gets something wrong. Like “George Stevenson invented the railway locomotive.” No he darn well did not! Nor did that Scot Watt invent the steam engine!
    When I did succumbe my team missed winning by half a point so I went back next time to win…and we did!

    Comment by magpie11 — March 27, 2012 @ 14:44 | Reply

    • David, there are computer games and there are computer games. The chicken was was of the very harmless garden gnome variety. An exercise in hand eye coordination, not Arnold Schwarzenegger. The other of educational value. Yes, really.

      Card games? Sure. As long as you are prepared to explain the rules to me (AGAIN) every time we play. I have a peculiar block there.

      I love chess. However, my true ambition to play poker. Two handicaps: See memory loss regarding “rules” above, second; my face is a dead give away. It shows joy, it shows sorrow. So that shall remain a dream though may still learn the theory of the game. After all, how else will I while away time in the eternity of hell or heaven?

      Playing board games, indeed any game, reflects on our peculiarities (see above). For instance, my mother loves board games, always has; my father loathes them. At a push, maybe once every five years, he’ll join in. With a running comment. Do feel free to roll your eyes. Even if he does win, which he doesn’t, I don’t think it gives him any joy. I myself couldn’t care less. If she wants to play I’ll play. Neither does it bother me whether I win or not. To me playing games is more about watching people how they play it. The same with those doing Su Doku or difficult cross words – they get this peculiar look on their face. Vacant. Absent minded. I suppose one could call it concentration. Addiction. Obsession. I stir well clear. Just grin to myself. Having said that, in the wake of Phil’s comment yesterday I, naturally, this morning I latched onto the first So Doku I could lay my hands on (pages 56 to 57). I knew it would be a bad idea. And it was. Instead of doing something else I found myself wrestling with “Super Fiendish”.

      I hate General Knowledge Quizzes (though will partake in a TV one – from the safety of my sofa). I don’t know why people do it. It’s so competitive, so show off, SO WHAT? Not least is it vaguely depressing if either the contestant or I do not know the answer. I go into full John McEnroe mode: “You can’t be serious!” The only reason I (rarely) watch University Challenge is because Jeremy Paxman is the thinking woman’s crumpet, AND he sneers so beautifully when the hapless get the answer wrong.

      Hope that answers your question. Remember: I started but am not yet finished.


      PS No forget it … everyone will hate me.

      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 27, 2012 @ 18:43 | Reply

  6. I never understood the allure of any past time that involved destruction. I’m referring to your original post and not to all the discussion that emerged from it, just to be clear… 😉

    Comment by Lorna's Voice — March 28, 2012 @ 14:23 | Reply

    • Lorna, I share your sentiment. Games involving men running around shooting each other or killing themselves by dint of bad driving skills only to get up two seconds later have no appeal to me either. Give me real life, and the next A&E (Accidents and Emergency) Ward, any time.

      But those chickens (I’ll try to find a way of providing a link – chance would be a fine thing) was terribly soothing. They didn’t mind being shot. There was a particularly large one (probably a turkey) which would pop up randomly. He taught me a valuable lesson: Don’t keep your eyes in the sky, look down every so often.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 28, 2012 @ 14:55 | Reply

  7. I really think that you need a different perceptive. Try this for size –

    Comment by rummuser — March 28, 2012 @ 15:22 | Reply

    • Thanks for the link, Ramana. I read it. Not quite sure what you are trying to convey. Please do enlighten me.

      I don’t have a toaster oven; I don’t even have a microwave. I cook from fresh. Eat raw. Or not at all.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 28, 2012 @ 16:12 | Reply

  8. Have a nice weekend U

    Androgoth XXx

    Comment by Androgoth — March 31, 2012 @ 17:14 | Reply

    • Thank you, Goth. Once the Angel has vetted your site as to whether his mother is old enough to visit it (or, more likely, what with your shared interest in Metal, latching onto it himself) I shall shed my blushing self and try to say something meaningless.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — March 31, 2012 @ 17:34 | Reply

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