Freak Number 45 – Webcam Dude

I was watching some British Documentary last night – you know the weird and freaky ones that are normally shown late at night on some dodgy telly channel and talk about the weird fetishes people have (like using sandpaper on body parts!).  It must be an English thing is all I can say!  Anyway, last night’s show was about webcam people and how there is people out there that like to watch people spill food on them (technical term is Sploshing!).  Hell if I knew you could make money out of spilling food down your top, I would have been a billionaire with the amount of food that ends up on my clothes. The amount of chicken legs I find in my cleavage at the end of the day is astounding (given the fact that I haven’t eaten chicken legs in ages is also astounding) as well as I am sure that there is a small village of pygmies taking residence there as well.   What can I say –  I am a full busted girl, I have given up any chance of wearing white (um….) knowing that it is just a recipe for disaster.  Don’t get me started on tomato sauce or any other sauces – I will just live on air to preserve my clothes.

Anyway that is not what this story is about – it’s about the dudes who like to Skype.  Yes, Skype – for the Peeping Toms who cannot be bothered going outside anymore, for the dudes who flash more times than a woman going through menopause and of course, the exhibitionists who just like to put on those shows.  Gone are the days of the garden beds being trampled on –  no, these people have decided that their bits have frozen too much, and have become lazy. Yes lazy! Who needs to sit outside in the cold, when you can stay inside and let your fingers do the walking online.

I came across one of these freaks while being online one night.  Okay I was bored and was waiting for my toe nail polish to dry, when a freak asked me whether he could Skype me.  Why not, I wasn’t going anywhere, I had just painted my toe nails.  Although I did say that my webcam was not working. Okay I covered the camera – well I was in my pjs with a face mask on as well – it was my treatment night!  Anyway, the dude was there in all his naked glory (yep, what a surprise there and not even a Chippendale!).  The amusing thing as he was jerking himself off, was the fact that he did not even bother about cleaning up his place.  Yes, in the background was piles of dirty clothes, decaying food and rubbish strewnaround the place for all to see.  Seriously dudes, learn to clean!  I don’t think he was impressed with the comments of “do you know what an ironing board is?”, “hmm, do you think that you should do your dishes before talking to me?” and “just what day is rubbish day?”.  What is a girl to say while someone is jerking off in front of you – “yes congratulations, you have knocked one out of the park? Jolly good show old chap” or the one I like “I don’t think that you would win an Oscar for that performance.  Where is the storyline?  There is no pizzazz, no charisma in that performance – I wasn’t connected to the character that you were trying to portray”.

 Needless to say, after 30 seconds of the “performance”, my internet started to play up.  Hmm could it have been the finger on the disconnect button that I was pressing.

NEXT!

Freak Number 44 – Foodie Freaks

Ah the foodie freaks – yes we have all come across the cult figures that think that eating purified air particles will be the next best thing and will guarantee that you will be far more superior than anyone else.  Yes, drinking kelp fresh from the French Alpines, only picked by virginal hands and stored in a freshly made cloud is going to work wonders for your pompous ass.  Who wants to be with one of those guys?  Yes please.. hand me a quinoa goja sea urchin shot with extra kale – I love drinking shit which gives me a bit more chance to be imperious to the rest of the scum of the world.  How could you not drink coffee that is made from cat shit – don’t you dare give me instant – that is just against my religion (ok that statement is a bit true to me – instant coffee is just wrong!).

Imagine going out on a date with one of these self-righteous jerks – yep I am putting my hand up here (a bit awkward typing with one hand).  Imagine being invited to a restaurant that according to the jerk was 5 star and it was so hip and happening, that you had to be on a special guest list.  Right – yes I can tell that this date is going to be sooooo much fun.

So here I am sitting in what can only be described as an abandoned warehouse in some backend street in Whoop Whoop.  Apparently its called Industrial Chic – yes so chic that it still had the windows with the same grime from 1935.  Hmm ever heard of food hygiene standards? This pompous git thought it was best thing since using panini instead of white bread for toast.

Not only was Pompous thinking that he was  one of the judges from Masterchef (the dude was a forklift operator), telling me how he has been to this restaurant and “oh have you tried this top chef’s food – what he can do with a pig trotter and the remnants of decaying vegetables  in the bottom of your fridge is ammmmmazzzzziiiinnnngggg” – I thought that surely my taste buds would be in for a treat – as he says “be prepared for a mouth orgasm”.  Rigghhhttt – yes gutter thoughts were in my head with that statement.

Apparently I was ill-equipped with my lack of experience in ordering food that Pompous decided that he had to order food for me.  Yes, who knew better what I fancied to eat than someone else.  Its really hard to think for one’s self obviously – to read a menu and think yep I feel like eating the salmon – how did I cope before without him?  I have never eaten a meal before, I just lived on air.  Politely I said to him that I am quite fine in figuring out what I would like to eat, to which he started doing the whole bombardment of “you should try this and that”.  Whoa, calm down dude!  I can make a decision for myself.

So after him rabbiting on about his own self-importance, I thought “am I actually here? why do I get the guys that just like talking about themselves?”, I finally got my entree.  Yes here I was ready for this mind blowing sensation that will just ruin my taste buds for anything else.  I looked at the plate – saw 2 tiny char-grilled scallops with olive oil splatted around it and a dollop of mushed up cauliflower.  It was so small that I thought I maybe this is the anorexia size not the entree.  The scallops were over cooked (trust me, I am a seafood wizard) and the cauliflower puree (its called mash people!), was cold and lumpy.  It was disgusting!  Pompous was ranting on about how that was divine and made by the Gods themselves.  Really… are we eating the same food?  Then proceeded to tell me that the scallops were perfectly cooked – really… you like chewing on rubber?  And for the price that they were charging, I would have expected it to be hand fed to me by a naked Adonis.

Another hour passed and I am still waiting for the main meal that would totally blow my mind apart so that there would be brain matter splattered on the walls.  It was torture, not only listening to Pompous dribble on about his own self-importance, but the sound of my stomach groaning for more food was deafening.  Finally the pièce de résistance arrived – yes, I think they were trying to tell me that I had a fat ass as again I got the anorexic meal.  There lying on my plate was a slither of salmon that was so oily and under cooked, some foaming thingie that I thought that the chef was shaving at the same time and left his shaving foam on my plate (tasted the same as well), and two small potato gems.  I think my stomach went “are you shitting me?”  Pompous was again ranting on about how wonderful this meal was and all I could think was “I wonder if I could get a Pizza delivered here” Thankfully I did not order dessert, I don’t think I could handle more disappointment.

The end of the date could not come quick enough, and finally the bill arrived.  Now I am one of those girls who pays her own way when I am out on a date (that way I am not obligated).  Sheesh – the bill was so ridiculous that I thought it was an invoice from my bank asking me for my mortgage payment.  Ouch! My credit card groaned when it was swiped through the machine.

Needless to say, after raiding the coin container in the car console, I finally managed to get some food via the McDonalds drive through.  Ahh Maccas!

NEXT!

(Not so) Freak Number 43 – The Ones That Got Away (Part Two)

After the last blog, I had to change the music that I was listening to as I was writing, or I would probably fall into despair over the miserable state of my crappy love life.  Either that or I would have to change my blog to “The miserable gits guide to having a depressing non-existent love life”.  So the background music for this one is Stone Temple Pilots – nothing gets your love life back on track than with a bit of grunge music from the 90s and possibly a heroin addiction.

So TOTGA 2 – now how did we meet – well it was at my work.   I worked in a pub that was in the East End of London – not the ones that were full of Cockneys but the posh one that was in the middle of the Financial Sector.  Yes home of the Gits that had too much money and a taste for the nose candy.  I had one of my Regular Gits come in that was completely off his nut on something that he had obviously found on the top of a toilet cistern and accompanying with him was a Client that he was trying to impress.  Obviously Git was so far gone, that his Client (TOTGA 2) was trying to babysit him but to no avail. Eventually Git had left to go to check with the toilet cistern was cleaned and never came back.

So TOTGA 2 was just sitting there, feeling like a spare prick at a wedding.  So the obvious charitable thing to do was to go over and have a chat.  Okay he was gorgeous, English (What is it with Poms and me?), body that you could grate cheese on and an ass that just begged to be groped.  God help me, I am sounding like a desperate housewife who has been let loose at a Male Stripper Show – chaps anyone?

We chatted for a bit and it was a slow night, so I decided that I could manage the pub from the other side of the bar.  Hey, its called Public Relations people!  What a coincidence that there was a bar stool right beside him – the Gods were smiling on me that day.  So we chatted more, giggled and just had a great time.  He was so lovely, charming and just dreamy.

You know when you have to make a decision and you think back on it later and wonder what would have happened if you chose the other path.  That is what happened to me on this night.  It was getting to the end of the night and the last drinks bell had rang (stupid bell), and it was then that I had to make a decision.  Do I stay at the pub and do the right thing of cashing up etc or do I walk TOTGA 2 to the train station and see what happens there?  TOTGA 2 asked me back to his place (ok it may have been a one nighter or it may have lead to other things, hopefully not under the floorboards).

Yep you guessed it, I chose Option 1… Damn you work ethic.  Alas I never saw him again after that night – guess it was not meant to be.

I still wonder to this day what would have happened if I chose Option 2.  Will someone invent a time machine so I can go back and find out?

As for Git, it turned that he had passed out on the floor of KFC.   Git came back into the pub a few weeks later to apologise for his behaviour and offer me a bit of nose candy to make up for it.  What would have been a better way to apologise was if he had brought TOTGA 2 to me, dressed as a Naval Officer!  TOTGA 2 of course in uniform not Git.

I suppose if it was meant to be, it would have happened.  *Sighs*