Bitch on the Blog

July 16, 2017

How to make a splash without getting anyone wet

Filed under: Formalities,Future,Pretentious Shit — bitchontheblog @ 17:30
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I need to change my blog name. Bitch on the Blog, for all its alliteration, is tiresome. Whether you (that’s me) do or don’t live up to other people’s expectations to deliver the goods you (that’s me) have another thing coming.

Blip on the Blog?

U

July 2, 2017

Limitations

Filed under: Communication,Ethics,Exasperation,Future,Observations — bitchontheblog @ 20:06
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I may have mentioned this before. If so please attribute it to occupying my brain in an increasingly unnerving manner.

It’s vexing. Any advice gladly received. What do you do when people get older? Do you actually argue a point, set them straight as to the facts or just leave be? Obviously the latter the easy option. But also … I don’t know … condescending? Yet, what’s the point to put a point when someone (by virtue of age) is more or less on the way out? What purpose does concrete information serve? I think the answer is: None. Yet when does the point in someone’s life come when it appears kinder to just nod?

I don’t like to use Americanisms yet a useful one here: I feel “conflicted”. If ever there was a shorthand for being between a rock and a hard place it’s downright “conflicted”.

To reiterate: Is it worth it to point out errors or, less challenging, just put a different point of view when that person can’t make future use of being informed as their time is almost upon them?

I don’t know. It’s painful.

U

March 24, 2017

Hop Scotch

What of the theory that certain character traits and talents do tend to skip a generation? Do you think it bollocks or can you cement the above with examples of your own life’s experience?

U

March 16, 2017

Appearances

Filed under: Accuracy,Bureaucracy,Errors,Family,Future,Psychology — bitchontheblog @ 20:39
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Let me bore you, and ask you as, no doubt, have done so before: What’s in a name?

I don’t mean surnames. From a woman’s point of view and/or if you were born out of wedlock, your father later marrying your mother, you may have had as many surnames as me, namely a few. I will not beat Liz Taylor’s record as I am not the marrying kind.

So, first names. How did you come by your first name? If any of you have already told me, that’s fine. I am more than happy to be told the same story many a time. Repetition is what anchors an anecdote in one’s mind.

Myself? I am rather in love with the story how I became an Ursula. All down to my beloved grandmother who registered my birth. My mother’s preferred choice would have caused me no end of pain. She registered her second daughter under the name she wanted to give me. Which is why I am a little bear and my sister is a rock. Not as in reliable, but as in immovable. Stone. Hard as nails. She was followed by our brother, named after “The Great”, and Cornelia, our youngest, who feels short changed to this day. What Cornelia doesn’t understand that someone does have to be the youngest – even if you were part of quadruplets. Perish the thought.

So, please do indulge me and tell me, if you know or at least have an inkling, how you came by your first name. Why you love it, hate it, are indifferent to it. What you’d name yourself if you could be arsed to apply for a name change. What was your name shortened to if at all? No guess what our very own Nick’s of “here and now” fame complete name is. And, last but, not least: Were you given a nickname? By whom? And why?

U

 

 

March 8, 2017

Forever

This post is not pleasant. I am going to make an observation and don’t expect any of you to answer, if at all, truthfully.

Do you wish/have you ever wished anyone would just die? Not because you bear them ill will, just because you’d like to tick a box (make that a coffin), breathe a sigh of relief and be done with that person?

Can’t believe I am writing this but there it is.

U

February 5, 2017

The eye of the beholder

Filed under: Amusement,Formalities,Future,Peace — bitchontheblog @ 17:27
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I wish Trump were easier on the eye. It wouldn’t make anything better but at least I wouldn’t feel vaguely repulsed every time (which is all the time) I am forced to set eye on the man. Also, he needs a stylist. That thumb touching forefinger forming a circle aka hole does nothing for his allure. Only to repulse further by echoing the shape of his permanently open (and round) mouth. It was therefore with some glee when I came across mention of some fossil. All mouth, no anus.

I recently mentioned somewhere that America’s then-just-about-to-become First Lady looked like a rabbit caught in the headlight. This was, naturally, as is her wont, immediately being taken as a criticism of Melania by someone who – a few moons ago – managed to take a mega dislike to me which isn’t as remarkable as it sounds. The person in question doesn’t appear to like anyone much, not even herself. Fact is, Melania did look like a rabbit caught in the headlight during the inauguration. Pays to pay attention to body language. And what do you know: It’s now all on youtube. No wonder the boy, Barron, looked excruciatingly awkward too.

That Trump has (supposedly) small hands is not his fault or doing. So, STOP going on about it. Having said that, and no use denying it, there is and always has been folklore about what people’s features say about them. For instance, my father warned me about men whose earlobes are not well defined. Can’t remember what it meant. But it wasn’t good. Then there are the thick necked. Which, whilst not particularly attractive, does, for obvious reasons, come in handy if you aspire to become a professional wrestler. What else? Hair. Hair is a matter of pride. And you may joke about the hamster on Trump’s head but what would he look like if he let his scalp go commando? Mussolini?

Other than that I am confident that Angela Merkel will not hold hands with Trump. Unlike Theresa May (with an ‘h’ omitted by the current administration).

And, just now, “the US president has expressed no desire to speak in Westminster Hall, or another venue within parliament.” You don’t say. What an opportunity to miss to make a complete ass of himself. AGAIN. As long as he slurps his tea with the Queen and assures her that he’ll make America GREAT, AGAIN, all will be fine.

Mind you, the Angel pointed out and, as much as it pains me, he is right that whatever Trump’s shortcomings may be he sure has shaken the world and woken even those given to political inertia. If that’s Trump’s only legacy it’ll be swell.

U

January 15, 2017

Repetition

Filed under: Errors,Fairy Tales,Folklore,Future,language — bitchontheblog @ 13:53
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Never being backward at being forward I have identified at least three phrases I have started overusing in my blog posts. If I were my own editor I’d have word with me.

In no particular order:

“in the olden times”

“once upon a time”

“apropos of nothing”

creep up with increasing frequency.

Mitigating circumstances are, say, age. Obviously now there are more “olden times” than any time ahead of me. “Once upon a time” is solely to be put at the doorstep of being brought up on a heavy diet of fairy tales and folklore, a habit I have kept up to this day. “Apropos of nothing”? Well, it is usually apropos of nothing. Just something that pops into my  mind, apropos of nothing.

So, not so much apropos of nothing, what do you find when digging in your memory box of once upon a time in the olden days?

U

December 8, 2016

Arms

Filed under: Babes,Future,Health — bitchontheblog @ 17:18
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Not to put too fine a point on it: My father is barely older than me. On an even finer point, and my mother won’t mind me putting on the internet what is common knowledge, I was conceived – two virgins having falling in love and first time. You can’t beat it. No wonder, I am so healthy. I was born before either of them had a chance or a choice to wreck their bodies. Not that either ever did.

So it is with some dismay I have learned just now that Mick Jagger has fathered yet another child at the age of 73. I am sorry, guys. It’s disgusting. Not the fact that he shags a 29 year old. Do whatever you like. With a goat if all else fails. But FATHERING a child at any age over, say – for sake of argument – fifty? Nah. If you have to prove your manhood go fell a tree. Do time travel. Become a Viking. Invade England.

To put it another way: Just because you CAN doesn’t mean you should.

Marvel at nature. There is a reason women’s fertility shutting down before their eggs’ use by date. Jagger will go on forever. I can’t wait till he is a few years older. Kick a football with yet another son at age 100? And I am letting Rod Stewart off lightly – not because I like him but because he is short. As is Jagger – come to think of it.

U

November 9, 2016

Awakening

Filed under: Atmosphere,Exasperation,Future — bitchontheblog @ 13:13
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Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s November.

And on this fine 9th of the month my first words spoken out loud, the tune the Angel woke up to: “The future is orange”.

I can’t discuss Putin on these pages as the Angel has warned me that people, particularly Americans, get a bit tetchy when you give the guy the benefit of the doubt. The Angel’s interest in world politics is such that he will sit me down and make me watch (and listen to  – subtitles allowing) the most tucked away Putin interviews – available on the internet if you know what you are looking for. Yes, so my long held wish which had faded over the years, namely to learn Russian so I can read Dostoewski in the original, may yet come true. After hours and hours of Putin’s Russian ringing in my ears I’ve definitely got the incantation of the language. The rest will follow.

Yes, Putin. Oh, must he be laughing (in a smirking kind of way) at this morning’s result. Like the cat who will be playing with the mouse.

On a different, a sociological note, just now I went to our nearest shop. I mentioned to the cashier that I was a little befuddled in the “aftermath”, and she asked me what had happened. WHAT HAD HAPPENED? Such innocence, such bliss. At mid day (GMT) there are still people who don’t know about a new political landscape. I don’t hold it against her. Still … Makes me wonder what planet I do live on.

Will I ever look at one of my favourite coat dresses (burnt orange with streaks of black) the same again?

U

PS Do you know what the two men (Putin and Trump) have in common? They both don’t drink. I wish they did.

October 22, 2016

Effort

Filed under: Future,Pencil and Paper,Photography — bitchontheblog @ 18:38
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Thank you for your truly refreshing, and refreshingly honest, answers on the subject I last raised. Yes, affection and trust. The very foundations friendship is built on. From there we fly.

Today? Today I am contemplating the labour of love. Both Ramana and Shackman have had their (un)fair, true and hard share of it. Myself unencumbered, I think along seemingly ridiculous endeavours. Don’t laugh or do, say, archiving all (and ditching some) photos, in a coherent format. Say, condensing a lifetime’s cooking into notes useful to the Angel.

I am no Beethoven so my legacy will be largely with those who’ll remember me whilst still alive themselves. Before I drift off into my own la la land of thought on the futility of it all, let me say that I think there is no better labour than that borne out of love, be it for your children, humanity as a whole, indeed – dare I say it – yourself. In which spirit I’ll now go back to the washer woman’s ironing board. Give me a crease … I’ll try and smooth it.

You know something? If I were my own editor (and she is merciless) I’d scrap the whole of the above as so much sentimental indulgence. Still, one might argue, why not indulge some spur of the moment whim?

Any labour(s) of love, as yet to be accomplished, on your wishlist?

U

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