Bitch on the Blog

October 10, 2017

Sacrifice

Filed under: Amusement,Culture,Ethics,Integrity,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 22:59
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First you wait for a rose to blossom, the next moment three skunks turn up.

Yes, so stink is where it’s at. I’d live another life if mine didn’t throw up a conundrum when I am already working on another. Just now, the most pressing, that “something” (I can’t be more specific) needs to be aired in the public’s interest. Forget interest. … should be brought to wider attention. HA. My intention may be good, even honourable. Enter the dreaded “but”. If I did air it’d hurt many – particularly one. Now one may be a skunk but even skunks have feelings to be considered. So whilst all worthy, even amusing, is it permissible to air how clever you are at the expense of a skunk or three?

Please say no.

U

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July 31, 2017

Punctured

Who’d have thunk it? My blogging tyre is flat. Not because I can’t think of anything to say. Quite the opposite. I always fire on all cylinders – yet, the desire to press “publish” momentarily eludes me. “Delete” does me fine.

The joy has gone.

Why? Most certainly not on account of bloggers who cheerfully “follow” me even if they don’t comment. Most certainly not on account of those who comment here – with unfailing wit, perception, occasional mockery, always thoughtful.

However, and I don’t like admitting to what I perceive a weakness, there have been forces out in the blogging world which have achieved the unthinkable – namely, my, the unsinkable’s, reluctance to put myself into the public arena any further.

Looking back over my life, I have never been bullied. I am not the type. Yet there is one blogger, ably supported by a weak cast, who has shown me the vile side of life on the playground which constitutes blogging.

I am torn. I could name him and shame him. But then I’d be playing HIS game. Makes you think, doesn’t it, how someone else’s maliciousness tempts you to repay in kind. It is to my utter, total, most heartfelt regret that I have decided not to fall for that ruse – as much pleasure as it would give me to tear the guy and his accomplices apart. He hasn’t got a leg, or any other appendage, to stand on. Still, I’d rather not be a facilitator.

Yes, so my joy communicating on the page has momentarily been stifled. Please don’t send chocolate or other sweet condolences. A lime will suffice.

U

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

April 30, 2017

Breaking news

Ha, all is becoming clear.

In my last post’s reply to Ramana’s comment I say that I actually don’t mind people displaying a healthy dose of arrogance. According to an article I just read we like those who resemble us. Which, oh my poor dear Sweethearts and regular commentators, on the assumption that you give me the time of day because you quite like me and it’s worth your effort, makes all of you arrogant and antagonistic swines. And those who shall remain unnamed – the ones who in their quest to divest themselves of me – are little Bluebells swinging in the wind waiting to be picked. Cute.

Well, if that isn’t a damning indictment (fn the Bluebells) I don’t know what is. Don’t cry. Here is my handkerchief. Keep it.

U

 

March 28, 2017

Rope

Filed under: Communication,Exasperation,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 19:31
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Ask me a complicated question. Nullo problemo. I will bullshit my way out with the best of Seneca and Socrates at the frontier. Wittgenstein if you can’t take a hint.

Ask me a simple question. Multo problemos.

When I say simple I don’t mean: “Does my bum look BIG in this?” If you have to ask me you know the answer without compromising my good manners. So stop it and go back to the changing room.

However, I will, from time to time, find myself be thrown to the dogs when someone asks me whether I like something (on them) or a poem they wrote. A shit drawing they drew.  Photos – smartphone – prevalent in blogland. It’s complicated (multo – on many levels). No one can accuse me of being backward in coming forward. However, there are limits. Even for me. I don’t want to deflate anyone’s balloon.

If there weren’t a place called Dodge City already I’d start putting down the foundations right now. Probably in Texas. Or Colorado. Or Kentucky. Or wherever they will tolerate me – no questions asked. Mexico. I can scale walls if need be. Ace of spades. A trump, nay, a death card if ever there was one.

Yes, so how do you tell someone who asks you whether you “like” it? Doesn’t matter what “it” is. All that matters is that you already know that THEY “like” it. And want your affirmation.

Good luck. Those are the moments you wish Clint Eastwood were there to shoot the noose before it tightens.

U

December 8, 2016

Weather

Filed under: Ethics,Exasperation,Fortune,Roadkill,The Reaper,Vicious — bitchontheblog @ 14:40
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There is a blogger. Let’s rephrase that. There is someone, somewhere, who blogs.

He has surpassed himself. It’s not even him being selfish. It’s him being thoughtless. Inconsiderate.

Yes, so come early December – and now he has got his “overcoat” out – he laments that December’s temperature, so far, is way above “cold”. One may say “warm”. He wants “cold”. God damnit, and if he wants cold he wants cold. Till March. May Bambi’s April showers piss on him.

Why do I even note this? Insert derisory snort. Because people like him with his beer and his whisky on tap don’t give a monkey’s thought to all those homeless, sleeping in doorways, ignored by passers-by, kicked by drunkards around midnight, who might, just might, be truly grateful that December isn’t as cold as Mr Blogger and his overcoat wish it to be. Those who can’t afford to heat the place if indeed they have a roof over their heads. Those who don’t eat because maybe it’s better to starve than to freeze. Those who don’t have a winter coat.

Plumbers are hard to come by on Christmas Eve. May Mr Blogger’s overcoat stand him in good stead. And be moth eaten next December.

Disgusted yours,

U

October 13, 2016

Munch’s Scream

Having been brought up on folklore and fairy tales to bursting point and lasting as fodder for my nightmares (and dreams) a life time I sometimes wonder about “sayings”.

Today’s is “walking in some else’s shoes”. Having a lot of imagination and empathy by the bucket load, I flatter myself that I do not need to walk in someone else’s shoes to understand. Ha. Never overestimate your abilities. You may have a clue, a bit like finding your way through fog. You will get lost in the woods.

In absence of any other diversion I have just tried to imagine what a rat, indeed any animal (or human), feels when forced into a corner. Main thing, I suppose, is to have your back against the wall. That way you face the horrors in pursuit of you full on; better than being stabbed in the back. Similar, I imagine, to drowning. You know it’s happening and, in absence of a lifeline, for a few minutes in your life, you’ll have certainty.

Ray of sunshine greetings,

U

September 9, 2016

Gatekeeper

Filed under: Communication,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 15:23
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Some of you use blogspot.com (blogger? by another name). It’s exhausting (for the commentator) trying to leave a comment.

By way of last example, just now I wrote a rather lengthy reply to Shackman’s take on chores. Yes, I then tick I am NOT a robot. Then I jump hoops. “Please tick all boxes with streetsigns/shopfronts/mountains, trees/water” – you take your pick. This goes on ad nauseam. I do have patience. Even mine is not infinite. Eventually, when I run out of it, as I just did, I exit. Let the comment, feedback, evaporate into ether. So, Shackman and others, thanks for saving myself from myself. I had written a most informative and personal reply – but suppose some things we best keep to ourselves.

U

September 5, 2016

Error

Filed under: Accuracy,Communication,Errors,Formalities,Integrity,Roadkill — bitchontheblog @ 12:49
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I shouldn’t have published yesterday’s post which is why, this morning, I decided to take it down. Not that that’ll necessarily stop me from putting it back for public viewing.

The reasons I did so are many fold.

Firstly, my post gave a more than usual glimpse into my personal life, expecting – possibly – too much from my readers in return.

Secondly, as so often, and it is not the first time I  have noticed this, virtually all commentators (there are exceptions) will latch onto ONE aspect of any post. In this case there were many facets to one of my life’s worst scenarios, with consequences reaching far further than my own self. And that was why I responded to Ramana more sharply than I would have ordinarily done (apologies, Ramana). Why I felt dismissed by Cheerful Monk and therefore reacted a little too hastily to her too.

Thirdly, and this links in with the above,  as some of you pointed out there is a back story. I do not think that revealing the backstory (I can’t do that in a public place) would help my agony aunts and uncles that much to give me advice on, say, how to resolve a Catch 22. And that is what it is. In fact, it’s better than that. I am caught up in the perfect Catch 22. 

As to your suggestions of involving a third party. That is an almost guaranteed way to backfire. As soon as you involve a third party in any subterfuge (even the most benign with no evil intent) you can bet your bottom dollar sooner or later it’ll ooze out like pus out of a wound. Been there (at the receiving end). Few people can keep their mouth shut, and that’s a fact. How many times in my life have I been “accused” of being secretive. Well, there is a reason for it. And the last time I forgot my own resolve it landed me in a hole I am still in. Six years on.

I can see where this post is going. Down a rather agitated and emotional road to nothing. Forgive me.

Some of the questions I brought up were general ones: Like, do we (as a spouse) always have to toe the line? Why – as soon as people get hitched – do they suddenly lose their own identity, become as one? To become as one, spiritually and when bringing up a family, is commendable but that doesn’t mean curtailing someone else’s freedom of movement, choice of friends. I will pick up on this subject in a separate post from a slightly different angle. See how that’ll resonate with you.

Anyway, thank you all for your patience, for trying, for taking an interest at all, not least a friend who didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say it. A special mention to Looney. Thank you so much, Looney, for making me laugh with your brilliant and humourous take on this whole sorry saga. That laugh was the first ever in this context. For that alone I’ll probably reinstate my previous post.

Hugs,

U

August 27, 2016

Uniform

Leaving France’s fashion and mind police aside for a moment, has any of you ever had dealings with home grown and/or police on foreign ground?

Don’t be shy about it. If you have robbed a bank or dug up your grandmother’s grave to pawn her wedding ring, obviously that’s private. And doesn’t count. Desperate times warrant not so savoury measures.

I mean the common garden gnome variety run in with the law. And are you jumpy as soon as the blue lights flash and the siren howls?

U

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