Tuesday, September 20, 2005

it doesn't hurt when I wee through it, so I'll just use it for that

I've been reading a lot about other people's experiences with Mosquito's. It's amazing how something so tiny can be such a pain in the backside? Most of the bites that I get I pick up in the evenings while I'm out walking the dogs, and sometimes there's quite a nasty reaction, one got me on the eye not too long ago and it swelled up as if I'd been punched. (I do take a crumb of comfort in imagining the mosi waking up in the morning clinging to the underside of a leaf and thinking "Holy Moly, what the hell was I drinking last night, I'm not going back there again", and searching around for tiny gnatspirin).

But this year I picked up a can of repellent in Canada, it's en francais so I have no idea what it says but I think it must be something like "begone you frail filigree winged fucker" (if it's not it should be), because now I trip gaily through the fields like the boy in the bubble with nary a thought for airborne wee beasties. I don't know what it is but I recommend it (and the manufacturers can quote me on that).

Speaking of tripping gaily through fields, there are a few fields that we have been avoiding recently. There's an Airedale out there that has designs on Toffee. Recently we've been wending our merry way through "Forty Hall" (ex hunting ground of Dick Turpin just by the way) when this bloody idiot terrier has broken cover, slewed off it's dirty old mac, and bolted towards poor Toffee like a sex starved cheetah. Toffee wants to run, that's what he lives for, he'll run, and run, and run, through thickets of undergrowth, puddles, ponds, ditches and farmers fields if you'll let him. And he's a boy, he has absolutely no interest whatsoever in being done roughly up the bottom by a gay opportunist Airedale.

And while we are in the realms of the sloppy segue, Toffee still has a better sex life than me, If you were around last night you'll know that I was feeling just a tad sorry for myself (wallowing in a humungous scalding vat of self pity because I have a vague head cold), one of those occasions where you take a roll call of all of things that are wrong with your life. Stand up career, idiot colleagues prepare to be named and shamed, say hello location, you there - too little time - stand up at the back, although I must say thanks for all of the offers of chicken soup, I may ironically pop my clogs but it won't be for want of nourishing broth. And it's raining it's pouring, my love life is boring. It's been over a year now...be honest Colin, well over a year. My hoover has seen more action in the bedroom than I have (which believe me is saying something).

Not that I'm surprised at this, please don't misunderstand. It's not as if I'm in a relationship, I don't have anything remotely resembling a 'girlfriend', so it would be even more remarkable if I were showered in indiscriminate sexual favours. It's also not something that I think of all of the time, (except for those little 3 second bursts that we all have every 2 minutes - at least that's what it says in Cosmo), but I don't dwell on it or sit against the bathroom wall and rock disconsolately. Which, in a way, ought to be just as worrying as dwelling on it and panicking. Am I getting used to it? Has my libido shrunk to such an extent that I'd just as soon spend an evening in with my furry friends as try to find some beautiful, happy and above all willing, lady friend? (Word to self: Have a chat with yourself Colin, when have you ever, deliberately managed a successful conversation with someone that you were attracted to? The likelihood of your mouth uttering words that a woman might want to hear is in direct, inverse proportion with how much you like her). And I am able to, you know, sort it out for myself, I don't believe I really will go blind and after all I ought to know what turns me on - except that the last time I tried, well....I got bored, (Hellfire, I even bored myself! That doesn't bode well for the future does it?). In any case, masturbation is to sex what a dip in the local pool is to swimming with dolphins. Anyway, do people really do that, I mean do men (and women) really see someone they like while they are out in the evening, introduce themselves, chat for a while and then go home together? Am I missing the point here, am I the only one that longs from afar? Or, possibly, do people have sex with people they don't particularly like, just for the moist, jiggly bit? Oooer, now I am beginning to panic, it is perfectly possible that if I continue down this manic, limiting path of trying to find someone attractive that I actually like that I may never, ever have sex again. Brrrr, is it cold in here or is it just me?

I'm really giving some serious thought to running one of the dogs over, slightly, so that I can go back to my gorgeous vet......better still, I could kidnap that bastard Airedale and have it's nuts removed?

PS, Last night I found a pair of spectacles in the kitchen. They must belong to one of the drive by wine sponges from the weekend, but nobody has called or emailed to claim them, it's my first clue.


Katya said...

ok i really need to know what mossi spray you got, mine is crap...i have bites on my arms from my visit to the USA, i have scratched them and i'm sure i'm going to be scared for life...i look like a drug addict...

and toffee probably has a better sex life than me too, and i'm married...sex is so overrated, i much prefer a good book/film/bear/bar of chocolate...

and yes its possible to see someone and then just go home and get it on...its called lust and not very satisfying after the event...

i think you're hoping we'll all come round with the chicken soup wearing only a flimsy negligee and a come hither look...lol


Miladysa said...

Mossis do not bother me, I am usually anaemic so I'm kind of the non-alcoholic version. I guess they wake up and think someone watered the drinks last night and phone trading standards instead of taking the asprin.

Please do not run over one of the dogs! Take heart - there is someone out there for you I am sure.

First clue - Glasses = we are looking for a blind drunk! :)

Wendy said...

Oh no, don't run over a dog! Stick with the thought to kidnap the crazy Airedale and get him snipped. I used to work for a vet .. it's simple, ... one slit and pop 'em out like grapes. Done! (well, after a wee shave first) Besides, you'll be doing him a good service because he'll never get prostate cancer. You'll get to see the pretty vet then too! We use Deep Woods Off here for the mosquitos -- take no chances with the nasty, disease laden little buggers!

leesepea said...

I think it's okay to be content at home with your dogs. I think it's okay that it's not as simple as going to a bar and bringing someone home. I think it's okay to think about sex 3 seconds out of every two minutes (Such a small ratio! Who came up with that? That's only, like, 2% of the time!) and okay still if you bore yourself (I do, too, by the way. Sort of why I don't really bother anymore).

It's not okay to inflict pain on your poor animals to have an excuse to chat someone up. Just stop by for no reason with flowers and tell her she's been on your mind. She will either be interested in you and very pleased or uninterested in you and a little freaked out. Either way, she'll still be flattered.

Flattery works wonders on us women. I could be in my pajamas with a serious case of bedhead and snot running down my nose and James will call and say, "Hey beautiful," and my heart will STILL flip-flop.

Trust me.

Not roses or anything obvious. Not carnations, either. Whatever's in season. And not a huge bouquet. A nice, modest one. Nothing showy.

Trust me on this one.