Hello cat fans…
Here are some of Hobart’s family.
And I’m not sure about this.
Or this disgraceful behavior on display. This cat looks more like Brandan though, my old cat.
Left on my own in his house this morning, rather than snoop through all the cupboards, I got on the Wii and deleted his ex-girlfriends Mii and replaced it with R Kelly, created by GOD.
Feeling satisfied I played a few rounds of Mario Kart as Bones then went and cleaned the kitchen worktops and stove as much as I could be bothered channelling my African sister, Dora.
Some days I am blissfully happy.
Finally you did something that didn’t make me laugh.
Don’t do it again, okay?
I love you.
Today I was going to go on an expedition with Iris39 but due to feeling wan and listless I stayed at home and ping ponged emails back and forth with her about the possibility of deleting my online dating profile and starting to write to a man on death row.
I have found a man incarcerated in the Polunsky Unit in Texas who is one of very few who admit they did the crime. I don’t want to read some rubbish blog about how “I didn’t do it”. Admittedly based on my own life experiences I am very sceptical about the abilities of those in authority but I suspect it is more difficult to get on death row than it is to have your designated Care Nurse loose your disability living allowance claim form and have to fill it in yourself again while living on £41 a month in a homeless women’s shelter. I don’t think you end up on death row by accident.
While cruising the pictures of men I have to say that they are pretty much on a par with the talent on other website with men waiting for your mail sending unconditional love, friendship, tolerance, showing your ability to look away at man’s worst endeavours – be it capital murder or claiming to be “both urban and outdoorsy and as happy on a night out as a night in”. Or worse: “I am a down to earth journalist who is into music, books, art and drinking. Music is really important to me. I play bass and drums badly in a band.”
Why not really go for something big in life? “I got 70 years for aggravated assault, then slit a mans throat at the shoe factory where I was doing janitorial work and ended up on death row.”
I will report back on this new phase in my life, but the more traditional online dating approach will still continue cause dating a dude on death row – only one of us is gonna live happily ever after.
With a day at home, armed with a great online translator, it was with great endeavour I registered myself on a FRENCH dating website. It wasn’t easy because I don’t know what all those stupid things are called – and the French idea of a classically dressed man is not going to be the same as mine – and then I mixed up hair and eyes when describing myself and said I had grey hair and brown eyes.
It was with a feeling of great triumph when I activated my profile and took a look at the gentlemen in France who can speak English that this website suggests might be appropriate possible matches.
UNBELIEVABLE. I haven’t had such a laugh in ages.
Maybe worthy of a mention, there were EIGHTY FOUR pages of this.
OH HAI! Yes there I am in Nantes reflecting upon my love life and the philosophy of Internet dating.
Okay so let’s talk about profile pictures. I sometime check out the women’s pics but of course this is problematic because on most dating sites you get to see who has viewed you. Like how on Friendster it was made clear who was spying on you and how many times a day. Remember that? So annoying! Anyway that is why my information is about 49% of the population and not the rest.
Some key notes:
PICTURES OF MEN WITH HATS
PICTURES OF MEN WHO CROP THE TOP SECTION OFF THEIR HEAD
[For the record I will date any guy with any kind of hair except for a grey pony tail. BUT I could even imagine some exceptions here.]
FACE SHOT ONLY WITH “CUTE” SMIRK OFF TO THE SIDE
Fluffy [or as some less educated people will say: FAT]
[Again for the record: Check my U.B.M. segment number 1 on Teki Latex - SEXUAL!]
FEY LOOK SHOT FROM HIGH DIAGONAL ANGLE
Will be skinny and have an asymmetric spike hair cut like a lesbian which is pretty shit as lesbians now have short back and sides or femme hair and a red belt
GOOFY GENUINELY NICE SMILEY FACE
Will have photos off his face at a festival further on
GOOFY GENUINELY NICE SMILEY FACE WITH GLASSES
Guaranteed to have pictures of himself in his IT office given away by the Venetian blinds in the background
PICTURE OF HIS FACE WITH SLIVER OF SOMEONE ELSES CROPPED OFF
I don’t know what this means but I am incredibly suspicious of these
I of course use the Photoface[TM] pics at any given opportunity. They might as well get the gist of my face with botox because I will be fucking on a botox drip in the next 5 years to keep up the lie about my age. [I switched my age back after getting a message from the Ginger Tom]
Now I REALLY REALLY THINK that online sites should have certain sentences banned from use to force people to come up with something more imaginative.
HATE NUMBER 1: I am looking for someone who is “comfortable in their own skin.” Bleurgh. Sounds horrible and slimy sexual like getting rubbed with chocolate syrup and whipped cream. And I think I prefer someone a little awkward who will realise that everyone has a bad day and wants to explode out of themselves. Thinking about it, people who describe themselves as “comfortable in their own skin” probably shit really regularly and have the same breakfast every day.
I am getting bored of this post so I will stop now or write more later. I have a sore throat and was shopping all day with The CIB. She put in a request that I sing Au Clare de la Lune on the Hobart Ukulele which I might go and do now wearing nothing but my new snakeskin high heeled sandals in the front window with the light on for the whole street to see.
Actually do you think it I should put that as my profile description to get a pretty good match for me?
Walking around Hanover Square sorting out CHAPS payments and why my bank card was on stop for the moment [power shopping] I walked past Chopper Lump a couple of times and felt a little guilty.
I would like to clarify this about the man I don’t want to see
1. There is no way he is only 49
2. A friend told me he knows someone who works at the same place the guy works at and piecing together a little info, this guy may be a bit of a dick. I think. I didn’t pay much attention. But the resonance from that moment the conversation left me feeling “Oh good.”
3. Can I mention the thing about THE POEM again?
4. He wears glasses but ones that almost look like he has dental braces on his face. [If I remember correctly.]
5. In one of his profile pictures he is sitting on a bed in a hotel room in knee length shorts with his legs spread a little too far apart for my liking with the camera at crotch level.
I don’t wish this man any bad vibes and nor do I mean any of these things personally to the guy. There are just things that irk me like men who wear pointy shoes on a hot day every day that aren’t cowboys. I just get the feeling he isn’t looking for the same kind of “experience” I am via the Internet. I also cannot imaging him YouTube DJing anything I would want to hear in the early hours. After enjoying this experience with someone recently in London and with friends in Nantes on the weekend I have decided that this is a definite MUST HAVE for any prospective date.
Which brings me to raise this next topic: HOW DOES ONE WRITE DOWN EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANT WITHOUT SOUNDING LIKE A KNOB?
I will share my thoughts with you on this matter and much much more at a later date.
How I really look:
How I think I look:
Actually, there is quite a likeness right?!
So after my [very brief] hiatus from internet dating [such a drama queen] I have reactivate my profile. I made a few minor changes and even corrected my age. I had pitched myself as a couple of years younger with the hope I would avoid the old critters with no picture who tend to contact me. As no-one had contacted me fitting that description at aged 34 I figured what is the harm? And what do you know, within THIRTY MINUTES this prick who used to message me before with a face like a ginger Tom Cat was on my case again like a fucking juju curse:
Your photos bear a remarkable resemblance to those of XXCENSOREDXX [previous profile name] whose profile graced these pages in the autumn of last year. Are you, indeed, she? She who decided that internet dating wasn’t for her? Well, if you’ve had a road to Damascus expoerience since then, and have decided you would like to meet up after all, then do drop me a message whenever you like!!
This folks is what I call a “GIVING UP ON LIFE MOMENT”. This is from a 49 year old stranger who I blew out before. Love’n'kisses. There is no way I am going to meet him in the Chopper Lump – not then, not now, not ever. Especially as he describes his ideal match WITH A POEM.
In other news, I am also looking for a gardener to tidy up my garden. Will pay! Must have some experience and be bright enough not to let the cat out.
Like an invincible obsessed fighter I am now learning Twii and Cantonese. I enrolled at Cactus for Cantonese starting in July and Dora is helping me using a Jehovah’s Witness pamphlet she was handed in Twii and English. Now I can ask such philosophical questions like “What happens to us when we die?” in my best Ashanti language. Unfortunately I will not understand the answer, nor can I explain how it is fate hands me such a random load of dudes to meet via the internet.
The most recent – when he started telling me in detail about the 20 English mushrooms he took before he went to watch Betty Blue and he was getting all warm and lovely and smiling and then was found in a kitchen with his head in his hands saying “Oh Fuck… Oh Fuck… Oh Fuck…” over and over again I couldn’t pull the ripcord quickly enough. Unfortunately it was a pretty good evening until about then and the Venn Diagram looked good. But then I found myself sending texts to someone else under the table while the date started to re-enact comedian’s routines actually getting up from the table and walking across the floor to do it. I feel a bit mean – but definitely not for such a uptight cow like me. Meye den abc mpae ama Onyankopcn atie?
Or maybe something like this is gonna happen in Archway?!
Meye den anya anugye wc asetra mu? I will tell you how – spend the day along Holloway Road going to Le Peche Mignon, then to my secret second hand clothes store to spend £100 on three dresses, two old cotton nighties and two shirts, then to iShake which is a “new” late night “diner” where I had an Oreo Special shake made with SOYA MILK! HEAVEN. Then feeling good I went into town and got an everlasting polish in red and now I feel a million dollars.
To preface this post with a picture of fake shit is a little bit negative to say the least. But what I would like to illustrate is: to find good shit you have to wade through a lot of bad. As you will agree, some of the shits above are better than others – in infact you could end up with a bag of marbles.
The most recent date was wonderful. When his face smiled, so did his eyes. So mine did too. And we recognised it in one another and it was the thing that was missing in the first two dates.
The date tonight nearly lost his chance when I received an email saying “I’m hung over can we change the date?” and I said “That is really poor form”. It received an instant apology and a pledge that he would be there at the appointed time.
What he secretly doesn’t know is that I am feeling a little shallow of mind [and a bit like the subject of the picture above] after too many beers at an exhibition at the Timothy Taylor exhibition of Sean Scully paintings last night and noodles on Kingly Street with my buddies. One thing you might like to know about Timothy Taylor is that he isn’t a bad looking man, tight as arseholes, and glasses that are nice but just don’t quite suit his face. They are statement frames and just too big. The day I am introduced to him I will let him know.
Finally, I called Mrs Kipling this morning just to tell her I love her. She and I had such a laugh at the statment made in The Guardian relating to the fact that the lastest serial killer caught has a profile on their dating site and warning and apologies ensued.
Kindest regards from the depth of Mayfair
Lately I have been pursuing the companionship of men via online dating sites in the hope that I meet someone a bit older, with a job, their own flat etc. In the gag reflex inducing sea of “cuddles on the sofa”, “red wine”, “a mean pasta”, “DVD’s” and “getting away for the weekend” I have found a few of the right kind of weirdos who may or may not be stabbers, but have least picked up the cheque.
One poor guy who actually works with a girl I know. I confided in her, she got drunk, told a colleague of theirs and the guy apparently got a ribbing at work about it. I wasn’t pleased. And quite embarrassing to be actually blocked from contacting this guy ever again… He must have been thrilled.
Another guy was very nice, told me he was looking forward to the next meeting because he had such a great time, wanted to meet my cat, big smiles, big kiss etc etc. Then what I call the malediction of the British – a text message a little while later saying “Cards on the table I felt no romance…” Ladies and gents, why not just say that to my face instead of acting otherwise? I really curse the British for the “nice to the face, grimace in the cuff.” You don’t know you do it and I fall for it every time.
Another guy is actually a transvestite, no date but funny chats. He’s great but too young for me and I’m not old enough to be a cougar yet.
At least I don’t feel totally invisible. But at the end of today, I just melted into the sofa watching Law and Order Criminal Intent with the super hot Jewish detective never wanting to step foot outside of my house again and happier in my $9.50 K-mart grey marle old man tracky dacks and a grey Chesty Bond vest.
On one of my night wanders in Hong Kong, I went looking for the street of fortune tellers near the Temple Street Night Market. While behind me older men and women really murdered some karaoke hits [Hot Breath Karaoke should really come and put on a show there - it would be hilarious!!!] Tenly Wong read my fortune from my hands, face, date of birth and bones. The only info I gave him was my date of birth and nothing else. If you know me and know my job, it is kind of uncanny that he would say working in a fashion company on a computer would be lucky for me.
He also told me that I have to concentrate less on my job because my nose is my number feature on my face and I will always find money. Same with my palms. Same with my birthday. What I should spend more time on is ROMANCE.
Then he told me Hong Kong or Singapore would be very lucky for me for romance. Then he asked me if I have a boyfriend. I told him that was a personal question. I don’t think he would understand the love I have with Hobart the cat who since I have been back comes up to be all nice, then suddenly decides to throw shade and turns her back on me.
Anybody travelling to Hong Kong soon, check out Tenly Wong on his website www.tenlywong.com
As for all single men – watch out!!
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