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February 24 Queens of EnglandCareful, she's got meat and two veg.
What is it with gay boys that dress as women?
Why am I gonna get into so much trouble for what follows and why do I care?
Well I dont care. So why do some gay men dress as women? Surely you wanna attract other gay men and not lesbians? I ask this question after being dragged to a gay nightclub in Sheffield and being confronted by scores of - or perhaps it was just 3 - drag queens (ok, i wasn't dragged but I was promised vodka til the small hours... and perhaps dragged is a poor choice of words in the circumstances).
The tarty bird/geezer. Roamed the club dressed as barbies ugly dumber sister brushing past anyone who looked desperate (either i didn't look desperate or my laughing put the shehe off) then looking back at them smiling. This seemed to work for herhim as shehe made many trips to the toilet and after every visit walked back out with an increasing look of discomfort . As you'd expect barbies companions looked like Kens senile redneck granpapa. Maybe money was changing hands.
The biker chick. Dressed in leather skirt and jacket, topped off with a leather cap as though shehe arrived on a harley but probably came on the bus (and probably in the taxi home too). Shehe stood in the corner and as far as I saw the only people shehe spoke to were bar staff when ordering pints of lager. If it wasn't for the moustache shehe would have been the spitting image of Suzi Quatro (I'm old, I remember her).
The very odd one. Have u ever seen the large tubes that horse breeders use to capture the load from a w@nked horse? I dont know what they are called but they are basically very large syringes. Well this one fella (obvious fella, complete with leather skin and mole hairs) dressed in a female nurses uniform wandered the club shooting from the hip at random people with one of those equine love juice syringes while also simulating a hand job with it. WTF would anyone find attractive about that? Pity the man, he had a very very short skirt and he was either heavily strapped or he was very very small in his own milk syringe. Fella, you looked a freak.
Of all the gay people i know, thank f**k none of them there knew the people above, friendship is good but there are limits.
For all my ranting I did have a good night out and laughed more than I ever laughed before (quite a statement) so I will be back at Fuel in Sheffield at some point over this weekend but only if the very lovely and very female Nicole accompanies me to the toilet for safety reasons... I need someone to look after the money
  . I'm not as intolerant as i sound, if u see me there feel free to come and say hello but FFS wear some trousers.Finally... If you are waiting for the follow up to 'The cat and the chat' then you have a very empty life and I'll do it as soon as I can be arsed.
As usual your comments are welcome but are likely to be ignored if you're a do-gooding liberal humourless prick. February 15 JackanoryThe cat and the chat.
This story is fictional and no events or persons portraid are true life. (lie).
Once upon a time there was a chatroom. A utopia where anyone without humour was chased away and banished from the kingdom of fun. A room so fine that it spawned an empire of mirth that spread from Chapletown to Catcliffe, Dore to Woodhouse.
One day the room was infiltrated by a liberal. A bot so remote from reality the arse (oh so plentiful) was eating the head. Call me your friend our bot announced! I'm your pal talk to me, give me your woes our liberal self righteous bot proudly typed. ERM, but we are all friends we replied, we get pissed together often we know each others woes n have the decency not to bother people with them we protested.
I am your saviour! let me talk crap at you 6 hours a night! I will cure you of your ethan ways! Rejoice in the light proclaims our bot. But you are blocking out our light you dumb f**K wit, we (with our usual respectful way) point out.
This is where our problems begin, as is usual for any chat room we attract our fair share of nutters and do gooders - if u class the two differently - and so we were not too worried. Our complacency as now brought us to war, our bot infiltrated the room and brought forth an army of freaks and manic depressives who each came with a retard under each arm.
Our liberal bot and the army of wrist lovers are now in such numbers that they are spilling over into our nights of alcohol and groping. Our cherished nights of cherry hugging, bernardette ogling, piss funny absurdness as been driven underground for fear of being infected by the weapons of liberal fun destruction.
The General at the head of the liberal invasion now sits proudly in the throne as leader of our group, smug in the glow of the minion lovers, but... is it really so hard for the old faithful rebels to defeat an army of self lovers and soldiers so thick they need colour coded socks to help them put there shoes on the right feet?
The fight back is in progress, the sound of humour will once again echo in the walls of chat as we rebels come blazing back fueled by vodka and armed with years of piss-taking weapons of anti liberalism. We took our eye off the ball, we spent too much time in the pub, but now we're home and we dont like kicking dogs so we gonna kick you self righteous pricks instead.
:D lifes about to get interesting in our rum world. Part two of this... erm... fictional story will appear here shortly.
Discrete comments are welcome plus any plotlines from those who know what the hell it is i've been drinking tonight.
February 04 This is once too often.Why am I doing this?
I have absolutely no idea why i have the urge to be sad enough to update this thing again, especially as I have notning of any interest to say.
Night shifts are keeping me outta the pub and i really haven't done anything noteworthy this week. On the plus side, I dont care. Let the ramblings begin....
Hmmm mentioning rambling... do people who hike also go train spotting, bus spotting, cycling and saving the enviroment like some modern day superhero wearing charity shop Y-fronts outside their charity shop slacks?
I'm not sorry if that question offends anyone, infact if it describes you i'm quite glad that you are tutting between mouthfuls of oats and Quorn sausages. Please feel free to leave your militant, animal snogging, veggie comments below... it will most likely make me chuckle.
I saw an item this morning on breakfast news about blogging... if i ever get like those people i promise to book myself into a swiss clinic.
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