Monday, 28 September 2009

Hommo Hobbies

You know the type of person I mean, the stereotyped anorak waering, spotty sad loner freaks who choose to spend their spare time with a pair of binoculars stuck to their hands. Spending their Sunday mornings out in the cold watching tains instead of curled upin bed watching Hollyoaks on T4. Thinking about it, isn't it us that are the real geeks?

First of all put that stereotyped image to one side. My first boyfriend who I went out with for 19 months was a train fanatic. He was drop dead gorgeous and huge, in every sense of the word ;) He often dragged me kicking and screaming to the National Railway museum just ten minutes from where we used to live in York. He was so passionate about all the old steam trains and the Old Royal Carriage which his grandfather had helped to build. His parents' house was full of model trains and even a train telephone (this is wear I'm drawing the line. It was, you could say. his hobby.

Thinking about my hobbies, the dictionary definition is 'activity pursued in ones spare time.' The only thing I could think of doing on a regular basis is getting pissed.

Does going down Canal Street all dressed up at 9 o' clock on a Saturday night, being hammered by 11, falling out of a club at 4 with WKD stains all over your clothes, and then spending all of Sunday in bed nursing a hangover with a packed of painkillers count as a hobby?

Wasting our days off,not using our brains, not socialising in a mature manner with an intellectual conversation, are we the real geeks?

Here's a list of Handbags and Botox top five hobbies, at first they may seem boring but read on to discover the twist.

5. Doll Collecting. That's right people actually collect these hideous china dolls. Why not turn that doll into your very own voodoo doll? Just had a lock of your ex boyfriends hair.

4. Hiking. Not as boring as one may think. Early on a misty Sunday morning walking your dog accross the moors, you cross the path of a tall handsome stranger. Perfect for the outdoors type.

3. Fishing. Hours upon hours waiting for a bit. Try a change of venus and head for the Manchester Ship Canal. Set up camp on Canal Street and it may not only be the fish biting at your rod.

2. Model Making. Spending hours sticking together model airplanes and boats requires the patience of a saint. Get good enough though and it will not be long before you're making your own little model airplane, complete with engines and remote control. Now add a camera and a purfect spy device to check up on your boyfriend, start now and you may be finished in 2015.

1. Stamp Collecting. How could this possible be number one? Cheaper than many other hobbies with stamps costing 52p, with the added thrill every morning without the need to change your sheets when the postman comes. Collect enough and you could have the whole Royal Family sitting in your front room. And who else can say they've licked the queen more times than you......

Click comment and tell me about your hobby............

Saturday, 26 September 2009

Carry On Camp Camping

Never before has a static caravan in the middle of Yorkshire seen such camp drunk shannigans, and having said that I don't think the small town of Ripon was ready for such limp wrists either.
Last Friday evening I turned up at Benjamin's (my best friend and fellow trolly dolly) doorstep with a bottle of vodka in tow, nothing unusual there, and was greated by Stephen (Ben's partner) and Sydney, the labrador. Now I would love to tell you more about the evening but as far as I'm concearned thats where it ended as I don't remember anything else, and I dread to think of what a tit I made of myself. Fast forward to the following morning I awoken to find two biscuit rappers stuck to my face and lying in a mountain of crumbs, I'm guessing Sydney planted them their as everyone knows I don't do carbs after five.
Fast forward six hours and the gang arrive in a lovely 1970's pink caravan along with Soumia (don't let the exotic name fool you, she's from Essex). After scoffing our faces with pizza and downing the best part of a harvest of wine we set off to sample the not so delightful night life of Ripon. Arriving in a bar, that wont be mentioned, only as I can't remember the name as I would gladly hope to shame it into a 60 Minute Makeover, we had a little look around to what was obviously an after show party for Jeremy Kyle. Downing a pint of Stella we made a quick getaway after I minced to the toilet and Ben feared the safety of my new Uggs.

Two doors down we arrived at The Unicorn, this time it was the after party for Countdown we gatecrashed. The drinks were cheap and the room was furnished in a lovely spectrum of pastel nitted jumpers. Moving on quickly we turned up at Ripons only nightclub, Matrix. Now I am almost certain I've seen the exact same nightclub in Benidorm, however at £1.50 a bottle we really didn't care, and as soon as Ben discovered the revolving dancefloor all inabitions were lost.

Now I'm 24 and have never been on a night out and been able to pull a girl until that night. It seems in Ripon the girls don't care if you've got more mince than Fred Elliot's Butchers, they are quite happy to take anything that passes them by, on the revolving dancefloor. Now I wasn't the only one to pull that night, although I didn't actually kiss the girl she just kept looking at me even if Soumia was convinced she was a lesbian, Ben broke a chavs heart. The young lady dressed head to toe in Reebok, as sports wear is the general dress code in Matrix, made a quick exit after flirting with Ben only to be told he once slept with Dale Winton. Further entertainment that night included Ben falling out a car window, but the less said about that the better, the only thing I will say is that if you even meet Stephen please ask him to make sure 'everything is securly stowed.'

Waking up to a bastard of a hangover on Sunday morning it was fry ups and glasses of wine all round as we find it's better to carry straight on instead of suffering the headache. The evening was spent watching X Factor and I provided the entertainment for the evening, admittidly more for my own amusement than anyone else's, repeating at least 30 times a less than tuneful version of Alicia Keys If I Ain't Got You. I only stopped once Stephen picked up the bread knife......

The rest of the trip passed by in a haze of Absolute vodka, I would love to tell you more about it, but I genuinely can't remember anything else, so I'll leave it up to the others to leave their comments................

Thursday, 17 September 2009

KY on a side plate

Iodine: Where shall we meet?
Mucky_Mouth: Corner of Canal Street 7.30
Iodine: Tell me what you're going to do to me again?
Mucky_Mouth: Have you been a naughty boy?

We live in a society where we can get anything online now, including casual sex, and the taboo that once surrounded the subject has seems to have dissapeared quicker than the BigBrother contenestant's dignity.

With services all over the internet to find people;,, faceparty, etc, you'd be pretty pushed to find someone who didn't have a profile on at least one of these sites on a busy night down Canal Street, or a quiet one come to think of it. My personal belief of these sites is that they're quite sad (ok pot kettle black, I admit I have a profile on one of these sites). Maybe I am just living in the past when I say I'd like to be wined and dined before I'm 69'd, and surely I can't be the only one? I've tried to argue my case with several friends who have profiles on these sites and regularly meet men for sex and they all say the same thing; 'we're in the 21st century now, there's no need for formalities.' I beg to differ.

You go one the internet, scroll throgh profiles until you see someone who takes your fancy, or most probably see someones bits and pieces that tickles you fancy, you send them a message and wait for a reply, they check out your profile (well pictures at least), they like what they see and you hook up and have sex. Ok so there are no formalities, but aren't formalities good? Aren't formalities the chats we have with someone before we discover if we like them or not? Don't the formalities keep us safe? It's those first impressions that count. Formalities are fun, they're social events, meetings in pubs with a few sambuccas, going to the pictures, spending an evening gigling at each others jokes (ok i know i'm starting to sound old but hear me out), flirting and having one too many drinks. You build social skills in these situations, you laugh in these situations, you don't do that sat infront of the computer.

I'm not deluded and I know that dates are not always fun, god knows I've had some bad ones, the man with the receading hair line was a particular bad one, and they can have those awful silences, but at least on those dates you know that the person isn't for you and you don't sleep with them. How can you decide that when your first contact is offering yourself top them with a tube of KY on a side plate? So I maybe 24 going on 40, going on 60 actually, but still wouldn't it be nice to be treated to a meal and an evening of company rather than wham bam thank you mam?

In this day and age it isn't safe to meet up with men off the internet and jump into bed with them (again I know pot kettle black). I'm guessing someone you met off the internet has probably met quite a lot of others in this way, isn't this how STI's spread? Not that I'm saying all people who have sex don't use protection but you can guarantee somewhere along the line somebody hasn't.

So from now on I think I'm going to stick to using my internet for booking my easyjet flights and browing the Victoria Wood fan site. And as for dating, I'll just wait and see who I bump in to, unless you can set me up?