Bitch on the Blog

October 23, 2017

Not always what it says on the tin

A rarity so rare I feel compelled to record it for posterity: I denied someone commenting on my blog publicity.

No, not for the reasons the easily excitable blogger, the overly sensitive blogger, the ones who get annoyed at anything that doesn’t tally with their opinion, will delete a comment. Not at all. The comment was perfectly ok – if somewhat missing the point and spirit of my original post. Which made it so depressing. So depressing, so dispiriting, I can’t bear it. So I moved it. I haven’t deleted it. Just made it invisible. Invisible. And thus I have learnt, for the umpteenth time in my life, that “out of sight out of mind” doesn’t work for me. No amount of stuffing into cupboards, closing the door and never opening it again will erase the taste of an initial impact – good or bad.  I might as well stick with open shelving.

Do you employ shredders – successfully?

U

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July 12, 2017

Expansive

One of the fairies at my cradle made sure that I’d never be bored.

Her intention was good. In practice it brings problems. None of which can’t be solved; but problems nevertheless. The main one being that I waste (how does one define “waste”?) on wastes of space. I do I do I do. Because I never give up. And if there is one adage I cling to like a calf following her mother’s udder it’s that only the boring are bored. That way you dig your own bore.

Be still, my beating heart.

In the motherland there is a saying, and I have no idea what it means but it sounds good: Den inneren Schweinehund ueberwinden. Roughly translated: To overcome your inner swine (where the dog comes into it I do not know). It’s taking me forever (the present continuous wisely chosen) to overcome my swine’s dog – but, I am getting there. With regret, I shall concede that some in blogland (no, not ye, my faithfuls) will bore. Even me. Actually, that’s not true at all. The more boring the more amusing and interesting they are. In a sort of forensic research type of way.

Hugs and hisses,

U

March 21, 2017

Why, oh why, oh why

As I currently appear to be in questioning (if not questionable) mode here is another one to make you, my dear Readers, blush:

What do you remember as one of the more embarrassing moments of your life? Obviously, all of us are spoiled for choice, and some episodes best taken to the grave, never to see the light of day. Others? Other embarrassments may make (some time in a far away future) a passable anecdote.

And yes, before you scroll back, I DID say that ALL of us (no use denying it) are spoiled for choice – and I say this as someone who is NOT easily embarrassed. As they say “Shit happens”, so, and being conceited as I am, I am reconciled to the human condition. However, when I do embarrass myself, boy oh boy, no half measures taken, no hole to swallow me in the near vicinity, I do wonder why this mortal coil of a life is peppered with snares to get trapped in.

It also makes for a rather interesting exercise in time travel, not least when you learn that some people were elephants in a previous life; they never forget, and have amazing ability to cut you down shorter than to size by casually mentioning something that happened ages ago.

In the short space it took me to type the above, my life of embarrassing episodes has flashed past me and I feel a little hot under the collar. It’s why the prospect of someone writing your biography once you are dead and therefore unable to put the record straight is pretty daunting. OH MY GOD. Actually tempts me, rarely – but it does, to put it all down on paper myself. Except, of course, who wants to relive that which is best forgotten?

Please don’t be shy. As so often, I will reveal myself in reply to you. If that sounds like a trade off – it isn’t. It’s my ingenious way of hiding my tree among bushes, in the hope no one notices.

U

October 10, 2016

Check, Mate

One of the joys of a language being your second is that you give meaning to words and phrases only you understand.

Let’s leave aside my coquettish, and for years, saying “prawn to something” instead of prone. You have to be a foreigner to enjoy that little play. British humour aside, they don’t get it.

Anyway, I grew up – yesterday – and now know how not to be stupid beyond my capabilities.

U

May 14, 2010

Enhanced

Filed under: HumoUr — bitchontheblog @ 11:24

Bike Hike Babe keeps me unstintingly – and not only with her comments – in laughter thus, no doubt, prolonging my life by more than an hour.

This morning, and call me simple if you must, I was in stitches when receiving BHB’s mail of  how to administer a pill to a cat. Only those of us who have been there will recognize what she is talking about. Snide remark – as befits me as the bitch on the blog: No wonder Grannymar has no time for cats, or me  come to think of it. Wish I were a dog. In fact Grannymar will, as of now, be known to the world as GMM. An acronym for “GrannyMar Marred”.  The tragedy being that the damage is, apparently, beyond repair.  Amendment an hour later or so: GMM is rubbish. I prefer GMOABF (Grannymar on a BLOWN fuse).

Don’t worry, Conrad, I will come up with your own claim to fame. Trouble is it’s harder than I realised to bitch. Still, I accepted the job. Looking forward to seeing you at the water cooler. Don’t send your mother instead. Maybe mighty Mayo is willing to give you much needed assistance.

Wait: How about COASF – Conrad On A Short Fuse?

U

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