Scribbles

I suspect, because of the blatant disregard I have showed my blog over the past couple of weeks that some of you have upon realising that there was no new post on the blog tried to put in words your disappointment, at such total disregard.  If so, you are not alone. Every morning, I wake up and try to squeeze my head of a little bit of awesomeness. Now instead of my hourly catatonic flashes of inspiration, I seem now to only be getting them in fortnightly dribbles that seem to fade before I can get a firm hold of them. And because of that the blog has suffered. Here is what I imagine some guy I afford a comedic reprieve might have gone through because of my insensitivity. ------------- Dear V, During lunchtime, today, I tried to read your blog. And so, I waited for my boss to leave, when I was absolutely positive that she had left the building, I settled under my desk with my laptop in tow. After taking a bite from the apple momsy had packed for me lunch, I ...

Once, a local newspaper reported the bizarre story of an adulterous couple that got stuck together during sex. The husband had done that to them. I dint understand how but a nerd friend of mine informed me that if during sex a woman is stressed enough her vagina will close up. Bollocks. That was a simple case of witchcraft. The husband confirmed it by going to a witchdoctor (n’anga) and getting them unstuck.  It worked. My nerd friend whispered that the perceived danger had been removed and she had no reason to fear so her vagina had loosened and let her ‘lover’ go. I love that word, lover... it seems so lovey dovey, so yours truly innit? Bollocks. I digress.  Years later when I moved towns, I heard of a man who could let you see who had stolen from you. He would lead you into an ill lit room sit you in a chair and hand you a mirror. Then the rest was all you, “Mirror mirror in my hand, show the fiend who stole my beast/bra/phone/money/sho...