Bitch on the Blog

July 12, 2017


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,



July 15, 2013

Tale from the unsuspecting

Filed under: Amusement — bitchontheblog @ 14:17
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Some of my elders, youngers and betters may have something to say to me. Sternly.

I am fighting a battle. A battle between being impulsive (ie not living with a thought for tomorrow) and rationality (thinking about consequences). It’s a raging battle. Amply supported by foot soldiers like optimism, despair at three in the morning, and generally trying to work out what the hell is going on.

If I were a cheese I think someone should ripen me.

If I were a pear (particularly avocado) I’d buy myself on the market, with misgivings, and – on returning home – put myself into a brown paper bag in hope to ripen. Make that over-ripen. Inedible on the day you fancy a pear. Missing that little window of perfection.

No one wants to be a banana. If unattended and not eaten a banana will brown.

Probably best to be an apple. Though someone might choke on it. And a hundred years later a minor will kiss you. Which, these days, is, technically, not possible because you’d be done for leading someone, one hundred years younger than you, astray. The fault in the argument, and defense lawyers know this, that Sleeping Beauty didn’t ask to be kissed.

Yes, its’ a minefield out there. Going to do some severe filing now. Lest the apple of my eye will choke on the mess his mother is going to leave behind – at some point in the future. That’s what I hate about “the future”. There is a always a point. When? Future be what it may but it’s no logistics expert. You can’t expect people turning up at some terminal with hope in their heart. What you do in England is turn up at a train station. Your heart already sunk.

Happy Monday to you too. And it’s already thirteen minutes past three British Summer Time.


July 11, 2012

Aga saga

Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 19:04
Tags: ,

Revenge is a dish best put on a low back burner. And forgotten. That way the smell will waft and linger.


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