If any one of you sicko cod-psychoanalysts is bored or curious enough to want to dissect old Dive and poke the bits with a stick, more hot poop and embarrassing revelations can be found here and here, and even here, with divers miscellanea under the tags "À la recherche du temps perdu" and "Sexual Fantasies".
Fresh Hell's meme is the one asking for eight (count 'em) items of autobiographical gallimaufry.
I'm not even sure if I can find eight leftover bits after all the horrors contained in the above confessionals, but here goes:
Forgive me Blogger for I have sinned:
1. A girl named Sonia once insisted I go see Titanic with her at the multiplex in Norwich Castle Mall (the one with the permanently sticky floor). We sat to one side by ourselves and as the ship went down, so did she.
The only embarrassing part about this is that I actually paid to see Titanic. These days I am old enough to know better.
At least di Caprio has now redeemed himself in Scorsese's The Departed, and Winslet in Extras (hee hee).
2. I find Deanna Durbin totally hot.
They don't make 'em like this any more … sigh3. Someone once left a fully working game of Pong in the attic of a house I moved into. A massive lump of plastic that plugs into the back of the telly and has two joysticks. Arcade heaven!
Cool!
I still have it.
Touch it and I kill you.
It is my precious.
4. Shit. How do I find eight autobiographical morsel-ettes when I've already fessed up everything I can think of?
Hokay: let's get boring. My first car was a pale blue Ford Anglia just like the one in the Harry Potter movies (except it didn't fly quite so well).
I broke the back axle racing our local village policeman's son over that fabulously twisty five mile stretch of road between Hales and Haddiscoe in Norfolk (bikers will know the bit I mean … that bit where Steve went into a tree and had to have his spleen removed).
I still beat him, even with the car lurching sideways over every bump.
Ha! Up yours, Matthew!
5. Before I removed the polystyrene packaging around my unused brain, read the instruction manual and got the thing started I used to believe in God and an afterlife and an everlasting soul.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha … etc.
6. When I was seven I was Miss Gibson's "teacher's pet" at school.
The sadistic old witch put me forward a year which I hated as my friends thought I was a girly swot and the older kids I was stuck with spent all year trying to beat me back down again.
The worst thing about Miss Gibson was that she loved to have me read aloud in class. Which was fine except that she was obsessed with the caning scenes in Billy Bunter books and had me read those out over and over, gleefully joining in with every "Yarroo!" as the cane striped the buttocks of the fat owl of the dorm.
There was something seriously wrong with that woman.
The damage it did to me can be gauged by reading through my archives. Scary.
At that time, little brother Full was lodging with us and eating us out of every cake and biscuit we had.
I got home from work to find Ming The Menstrual shrieking and flapping in the front garden, having been scared out of the house by this monster spider on the landing.
"Yeah, yeah." I thought as I entered the house (I can deal with spiders).
Then "Fuck!" as I saw IT.
IT was up at the top of the landing where I couldn't reach so I got a broom and tied a stick to the end so I could get to the fucker and knocked it down into a cardboard box I propped on the stairs.
I closed the lid of the box and put it on the kitchen worktop with a piece of paper on top saying "CAKE". and waited for Full to come home.
Oh joy unbounded!
Actually, he coped pretty well and didn't kill me.
Kate the cat then leapt on the spider and crunched it up which was pretty gross. Hey ho.
8. I laughed when Diana died.
Mum called me (I didn't have a TV back then). She was in floods of tears and I was desperate to know what was wrong.
When she told me Diana was dead I laughed (sorry, but that was my genuine reaction).
I don't think she's ever forgiven me.
As I tried to explain to her, I didn't particularly want to see the psychotic bint dead, I just didn't want to see her full stop. Back then she was such a manic self-publicist, hi-jacking good causes like the landmine victims' charity and generally being a sickening freak and the papers were full of her.
Unfortunately they were even more full of her once she was dead.
I just can't win.
So …
I'm not going to tag anyone with this as most of you have done it anyway. But what I will say is "Hey! I've fessed up to all sorts of embarrassing crap. Now it's your turn. C'mon! Give it up!"
Cool!
I still have it.
Touch it and I kill you.
It is my precious.
4. Shit. How do I find eight autobiographical morsel-ettes when I've already fessed up everything I can think of?
Hokay: let's get boring. My first car was a pale blue Ford Anglia just like the one in the Harry Potter movies (except it didn't fly quite so well).
I broke the back axle racing our local village policeman's son over that fabulously twisty five mile stretch of road between Hales and Haddiscoe in Norfolk (bikers will know the bit I mean … that bit where Steve went into a tree and had to have his spleen removed).
I still beat him, even with the car lurching sideways over every bump.
Ha! Up yours, Matthew!
5. Before I removed the polystyrene packaging around my unused brain, read the instruction manual and got the thing started I used to believe in God and an afterlife and an everlasting soul.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha … etc.
6. When I was seven I was Miss Gibson's "teacher's pet" at school.
The sadistic old witch put me forward a year which I hated as my friends thought I was a girly swot and the older kids I was stuck with spent all year trying to beat me back down again.
The worst thing about Miss Gibson was that she loved to have me read aloud in class. Which was fine except that she was obsessed with the caning scenes in Billy Bunter books and had me read those out over and over, gleefully joining in with every "Yarroo!" as the cane striped the buttocks of the fat owl of the dorm.
There was something seriously wrong with that woman.
The damage it did to me can be gauged by reading through my archives. Scary.
7. The biggest spider I ever found in my house was a giant house spider about the size of a side plate. The giant house spider is not cuddly like a tarantula. It is FAST and it likes to run straight at you.
At that time, little brother Full was lodging with us and eating us out of every cake and biscuit we had.
I got home from work to find Ming The Menstrual shrieking and flapping in the front garden, having been scared out of the house by this monster spider on the landing.
"Yeah, yeah." I thought as I entered the house (I can deal with spiders).
Then "Fuck!" as I saw IT.
IT was up at the top of the landing where I couldn't reach so I got a broom and tied a stick to the end so I could get to the fucker and knocked it down into a cardboard box I propped on the stairs.
I closed the lid of the box and put it on the kitchen worktop with a piece of paper on top saying "CAKE". and waited for Full to come home.
Oh joy unbounded!
Actually, he coped pretty well and didn't kill me.
Kate the cat then leapt on the spider and crunched it up which was pretty gross. Hey ho.
8. I laughed when Diana died.
Mum called me (I didn't have a TV back then). She was in floods of tears and I was desperate to know what was wrong.
When she told me Diana was dead I laughed (sorry, but that was my genuine reaction).
I don't think she's ever forgiven me.
As I tried to explain to her, I didn't particularly want to see the psychotic bint dead, I just didn't want to see her full stop. Back then she was such a manic self-publicist, hi-jacking good causes like the landmine victims' charity and generally being a sickening freak and the papers were full of her.
Unfortunately they were even more full of her once she was dead.
I just can't win.
So …
I'm not going to tag anyone with this as most of you have done it anyway. But what I will say is "Hey! I've fessed up to all sorts of embarrassing crap. Now it's your turn. C'mon! Give it up!"
13 comments:
A secret is a secret is a secret, so no, I won't do the meme.
Diana Durbin? Seriously?
Only one secret, Robyn?
Must be a real doozy!
And yes, Deanna Durbin. Even when she yodels she's sexy.
I fess up to embarrassing shit on a daily basis - its called a blog.
Ok, firstly, you and something called ming the menstrual had a cat called KATE?????
Cats suck and not in a nice way either.
Secondly - psychotic bint aside (grrrr) you LAUGHED when Diana died?
And you freely admit that to the blogging public?
I'm pretty sure I've lost half my readership with my religion rant today but to admit to laughing when di died, well fuck, hows that for balls.
Somehow I knew that would be the one to get the flak. Hee hee.
Hey. What can I say?
Mum said "Diana's died in a car crash" and I laughed.
It happened.
Well my first response was "bullshit".
But horses for courses I guess.
Hee hee hee
Ha ha, already did it. Someday I'll tell my Diana death story.
That spider would have had me in a coma.
Well done, Dive.
I feel about Marlon Brando (before he got fat and... eccentric) as you do about Deanna Durbin.
The spider bit had me in stitches.
I laughed when Diana died as well. I was bartending at a Live and Luscious Jackson concert when the news broke. I didn't understand why some of my fellow bartenders were so forlorn over it. It just seemed very "Paris Hilton goes to jail" (in today's terms) on my scale of events that matter.
Your fellow bartenders were probably gay men, Fresh.
And Brando in On The Waterfront?
I probably would, too. He did kinda smoulder.
And Sassy: Fess up your Diana story (unless you cried, then I don't wanna hear it) hee hee.
We were staying over at a friend's in Bedfordshire when Diana died and we were watching the telly early in the morning with the sound turned down while he took a long phone call. On the telly I could just about make out Jeffrey Archer saying "certainly as a figure on the world stage, she is irreplaceable." I thought Margaret Thatcher was dead and was going to run out into the streets cheering and screaming.
So when our friend got off the phone and said "you won't believe what Princess Diana's done now - she's only gone and died" it was a bit of an anticlimax to say the least.
Hee hee. I think when Thatcher goes they'll have to have a national holiday because no bugger is going to go to work, we'll all be whooping it up drunk in the streets.
I can't wait!
I laughed too. But, not because I thought it was funny. My sister called me, woke me out of a sound sleep and shouted, "Diana was in a car crash and died today."
I thought she said "Banana" instead of "Diana." Banana was the name of our other sister's goldfish and I sat there up on one elbow wondering why the HELL she was bugging me about a goldfish dying and what the hell was it doing in traffic?
When I finally got the story clear, I couldn't help it, I burst into this snorty laughter that was side splitting. I giggled uncontrollably and have since been labeled by the rest of my family as the cold hearted woman who laughed when Princess Diana died.
And, hey...I also find clitoris to be a very tasty snack. Some days, I just crave it something fierce. But, then, who wouldn't? It is right up there with malted milk balls as far as I'm concerned.
Hee hee, Maria.
Talking of clitoris: if I ever had daughters I was going to name them "Clitoris" and "Bonjela" (Bonjela is cack stuff you smear on mouth ulcers).
I just liked the words.
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