AFK
Yep, I am indeed AFK. Well, not technically right at this moment, but you get what the bloody hell I’m going on about (hopefully). I’ve just been AFK for a little while, and will continue to be so until next week or so. Partly because my current selfish neighbours don’t have wireless broadband that I can steal. Cuh.
I’m also quite freaked out by the people reading this at the moment. It’s all well and good pouring your heart out to people from teh internets on a regular basis…but when these people are actual *real* people, like, ones you know, that’s when it starts getting weird. I’d like to get upity and say it’s a bit like reading a diary…but then again, who the hell leaves their diary around for gazillions of people to read? Err, that’ll be just me then.
Anyway, I feel like doing some kind of round up of the summer. Not that we had a summer this year, but I’m going to do one nonetheless. I’m feeling quite reflective today. (I blame dreaming about toilets again. Toilets = weird outlook on life today)
It’s been a funny old year all in all. My fellow Stroudie at work blames the planetary allignment for all the weird restlessness that’s been going around lately. She may even have specifically blamed Mercury. (I probably had my headphones on, so I can’t be too sure) But anyway – whatever it is, I feel it.
It’s probably easier to blame Mercury for my complete ineptitude to get my shit together – but I think I know the terrible truth *gasps*
I just can’t stay in one place too long.
There. I’ve said it.
I’ve only been back in Blighty for 2 years and I’ve had enough. Since about April I’ve been on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster. Upsetting the status quo, for something completely intangible (yeah, well done there Moosh) I know I tend to only blog about the good times, but there have been some, quite frankly, bloody awful dark times. Thank the lord for vodka and msn. I’d go into the dark depths of despair and why – but I don’t want you to all run off screaming, so I’ll keep it light 
Aaaaaanyway, just recently there has been a chink of light in the end of the tunnel…
So, let the good times begin. What will be, will be (and other such platitudes) I’m looking forward to a winter of sex, drugs and rock and roll!
Errr, apologies to anyone I may have depressed with that waffling. Will try to get back to my usual posts of wanking and men in uniforms soon.
-moosh
p.s. On a *complete* tangent, is anyone experiencing “ghost text messages” at the moment? You know, whereby you hear your text alert, or feel your phone vibrate in your trousers (fnar, fnar) but when you go to look later, there’s nothing there. Spooky.
Speaking to my buddy from down t’road – he says it happens to him all the time. Mind you, in his house wine glasses fall from great heights and then pick themselves up again. 100% FACT. Although we all were a little tipsy at the time. *ahem*
Soapy Tit Wank
Fifth on Google.com!
She’s gone and done it this time!
For avid followers of Nothing (much) to report, you will already be aware that I work with a complete cow, namely the carpet-jumpered freak. She has gone and excelled herself this week (and it’s only Tuesday)
My boss has actually walked out. Gone. Had enough.
He couldn’t stand another moment of being her boss and therefore dealing with her and all her shit. Which is a shame, because he’s actually a really cool boss.
We’re all used to the bitchy comments, but this time she actually left her appraisal notes on her desk when she went to lunch. I was leaning over, opening the window when I saw my name. Naturally, the eye was then drawn to it. I guess she didn’t realise that her appraisal is actually to appraise her work. Given that she doesn’t actually do that much, I guess that’s why she just moaned about everyone else. Meowwww.
Anyway, the notes were just basically laying into everyone: so-in-so doesn’t do this, so-in-so said xyz back in January, so-in-so is defensive, do you know what so-in-so is doing? etc etc. That’s right: she wrote down reminders of what to bitch about.
What. A. Cow.
We were all pretty irked at this, and I was up for confronting her, all wound up. My boss says “Gaaaah” and goes back to his office. In the meantime, I go for a walk and calm the fuck down. What I didn’t know was that he actually warned her that I was up for a fight (or at least a confrontation) so when I got back all calm and quickly stuck on my headphones, I didn’t understand why she kept wanting to talk to me about loads of complicated shit (IT development) that she wanted done, like immediately. She kept getting up in my face, despite my best “don’t talk to me” face I had on.
Putting 2 and 2 together later, I realised that she was actually trying to provoke me into a fight. For whatever reason, I don’t know and quite frankly don’t give a shit anymore.
We all had a massive bitching session after she left for the day. No one likes her. No one wants to work with her. Everyone loves the days when she’s not in the office.
Anyway, down the pub last night all thoughts turned to revenge. I wanted to come up with some devilishly clever computer-based come back which meant showing her up in front of everyone. Two IT people, two pints and we still couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t look like I sabotaged her PC. Damn it.
The only workable solution was this: I would get a misting spray and fill it full of wee. Everytime she leaves the room, I’d spray her chair and make sure that her clothes get covered in wee. Steal the keys to her car, spray wee in there too. She’s of “that age” which marketing campaigns target Tena Lady at, rather than Tampax if you get my drift. I’m sure after a while we *may* be able to convince her that she has some bladder issues.
Comment below if you think I should do this…..
Mwahahahhahaha
Moosh
Rubbish foreplay
Yesterday, on msn we were pondering on why oh why *some* men are just rubbish at foreplay. We did not come up with any helpful conclusions to be honest, which is why I am trying to organise these musings into a post. Very badly.
So, before anyone says it I know that not *all* men are such crap bastards that they can’t even locate the clitoris…but it would appear that I’ve been out with a fair few of them. Note to self: stop doing that.
We therefore present the following possible reasons for further discussion:
- They’re just too damn eager to get onto the main event *cough*
- They simply can’t be arsed
- They’re not bothered about the lady’s enjoyment
- They honestly don’t know where the clitoris is
- Inexperience? Although that’s no excuse for not asking for directions…
- They were trained inefficiently by past girlfriends
There was this one guy, who shall remain nameless, actually lost his hard on if he had to waste time on foreplay *shakes head*. I tried coaxing, encouraging, tempting, teasing, and eventually, sulking all to no avail. It’s quite sad really.
But…on the otherhand, I’ve had the most amazing foreplay ever during a mushroom enhanced evening. Somehow it felt more like we were melting together (yes, yes I know this was probably the mushrooms) but we both were able to somehow morph our bodies together to experience what the other person was experiencing, and therefore know exactly what to do to heighten the pleasure. This guy wasn’t going to loose his errection (thankfully) in a hurry and I think we were writhing around on the bed for about 8 hours. Or that could have been the mushroomy elated sense of time…it was probably just 8 minutes
Meh. I guess you just had to be there.
Anyway, the bottom line according to Moosh is:
- take your time
- run your hands *all* over their body and not just the good bits
- don’t fall asleep (i’m not joking on this one…)
- know what your tongue is for
- and the best thing ever is……kissing the back of the neck
- don’t EVER leave out point 5
If you do all of this, you will have a Moosh shaped piece of putty in your hands (errrr, or whoever you happen to be screwing at the time)
Moosh
Tags: foreplay, magic mushrooms
