Curiosity nearly killed the cat.

Today we went to Auckland instead of going fishing. Pretty poor choice I know, but we had a fuel tank to collect from a very nice lady in Howick & herself's brother only lives 10 minutes away from where we had to collect the tank from & he was flying out to San Fransisco this afternoon, (Thats what he does for a living) & we hadn't seen him in ages, soooooo.......

We had a lovely lunch with John & his lovely wife & Johns newly grown up son & wandered off just after 2.00 to let him have a nap before he strapped on his 777 & disappeared into what passes for a sunset today. So we had an afternoon to kill.. I suggested to herself that we go take a look at this, & much to my surprise she agreed.

Well, God knows that I pride myself on being a fairly worldly wise sort of an individual & curiosity has led me to some strange & wonderful places on the net, but this lot.... I think we were probably nearly the oldest there apart from a rather elderly couple at the bondage & discipline stand. He looked tired & she was dishing out strokes with a cat of about 200 tails to anyone that cared to step up & assume the position. (No I didn't) This beast was about the size of your average wet mop head & took this old girl both hands to swing it. But swing it she could. It landing with a "Whommmpppp" that sounded like a wet telephone book hitting a brick wall at about 80 km/h. Anyway, I digress. I thought the male & female genitalia where relatively straight forward to operate, but damn there is a lot of gear out there to stimulate & tittilate. I nudged herself & pointed to one rather large black implement & muttered as sotto voce as the loud raunchy music would allow, "That would be guaranteed to get your undivided attention. She looked it up & down , muttered ,"Yep" & kept on walking.

I can now say that I have seen a blow up doll. If my only chance of a date was a bird that looked like one of those, I think I would take a vow of celibacy. I mean really.. 3 foot tall with a permanently surprised look on a face with permanently pursed lips, no hands & no feet. Mrs Palmer & her five daughters would have to be a better option.

I am very proud of herself. She took it all in her stride. The jelly wrestling, the permanently screening blue movies, the strip shows, the young lasses wandering round in just barely enough to stay decent.. and that was just the visitors.. She even, bless her, nudged me on several occasions to point out particularly interesting ones that she thought I had missed. She wouldn't let me buy her any red velvet corsets, or plastic nurses outfits though.

But what really got me, was that in one corner of all this lewdity, sinfullness, pornography, & general celebration of human sexuality, huddled together, for mutual protection I guess, was a group of stalls advertising clairevoyancy readings, tarot cards & aura photography.. I mean really.. What are they gonna tell you ? I saw you coming..? Which reminds me of a very old & sad joke. Why do Gypsys have crystal balls ? So you can see them coming.. Later Possums

Yuss, well.....

left click on this to see the full pic

Massage my ego Baby

I have been given a plum new run to develop at work. Everybody says I deserve it. I think I do too. For quite a time I have been the "Go everywhere, do anything Mr Fill in man.. " It has been said that Superman wears pyjama's with my name embroidered on them. Anyway, I'm doing this new run in a different town with new clients. They say a change is as good as a rest, & trust me, it is. I'm really enjoying it & also enjoying regular hours & being home evenings with herself.

Anyway, back to the main issue as the actress said to the bishop. The subject of weekend activities arose at this particular depot I was at, & the lady I was talking to said she was going to a 50th birthday party Saturday night. I assumed my best wistful look & said, "Ah yes, I had one of those a few years ago..." To which she charmingly replied, "Bullshit, you're not that old." Protestations to the contrary failed to sway her, so in the end I had to produce my drivers license to prove my advanced age. What it is to have led such a clean & virtuous life... I like that lady.....

I fondled a Ferrari...

Its true.. There they was pretty as a picture, all still in their protective wrappings. Damn they be awesome looking motor cars... Just HAD to have a wee fondle...

Oh, an happy dead day to Elvis Presley. Yup, its 30 years since old Fatso kicked the bucket.. Still earning his family $60 mil in royalties though...

The Bob Dylan Concert

I know you have all been waiting with bated breath for a review from me, the ultimate Dylan fan, well don't be disappointed. Here it is. I have read various reviews & critiques in sources varying from newspaper reviews to message board junkies. The only really bad comments I have read are from those who went along to relive their golden years expecting Dylan to sing exactly as he did in nineteen humptyseven. Anyone who is a real dedicated Dylanophobe would realize that he never sings a song quite the same. They are his songs, he can do what he damn well likes with them OK?

He didn't disappoint on Saturday. From a kickass start with Rainyday Woman #12 & 35 to the final of All Along The Watchtower, The whole evening rocked. His backing band was superb & Dylan was Dylan. Clad in black , he stood splay legged behind his keyboard & gave it all hell. he isnt that terribly good on keyboard & the volume for it was relatively low. Which was more than could be said for the volume on his microphone. That was too loud & distorted his vocals badly at some points, but hey, it was Dylan & we all knew the words anyway. Highway61 revisited, tangled up in Blue, Rollin an a Tumblin, & herself's personal favourite Masters of War. Quite a lot of stuff from Modern Times, But hey, thats a kickass album too. He even had his oscar in pride of place on one of his amps. It was a no frills gig. Just Dylan, a 5 piece band & the sound gear on stage.. Very basic lighting, no flash screens or other distractions. We got what we all went there to see. Our hero. The man who popularised the thoughts & ideals that we all had but couldn't articulate. The man who right from when he left school wanted to be a singer & did it.

We saw Bob Dylan

The Devil made me do it........

I honestly had no intention whatsoever of posting this picture, but this Satanic little voice whispered in my ear saying, "Do it, do it, do it." So, to quote Their Satanic Majesties, "What can a poor boy do ?"

Aleister Crowley excused his utterly abominable behaviour, sexual deviance & generally abhorrent excesses with the catchall phrase "Do what thou wilt to be the whole of the law." Now you know me, live & let live & believe what you like, but surely one can extract sufficient wisdom & guidance from mainstream religion, & yes I include Witchcraft here without having to make fucking pathetic efforts like this? What next ? The Gay Gospel according to St John ???

The last of one of the greats

I found this clip on Youtube strangely enough when I was looking up some old Muppet Show clips,(Don't ask). Its kinda long at 9 minutes, but well worth watching. Its the last performance ever filmed of Johnny Cash . Its done at the Carter Family Ranch, with all his friends & family round him.. Rest in peace Johnny , you gave us so much

The evil that cats do...

As you should be aware of by now, we are servants to two female ginger cats. herself adores them, I tolerate them & Mr Dog lives in abject terror of them. The smaller of the two, Fattums, is a wonderful little hunter, but suffers from a lack of teeth. Thats what ya get I suppose when you don't floss. She does the hunting, but can't do the ritual dismemberment & compulsory feather spread on the lounge carpet, so she catches the birds, sits outside the back door yowling in that special "I've got a gob full of feathers. Grubs up !" To which Tiggs, the other cat, responds, sits reverently until Fattums has finished the ritual torture & execution, then takes the poor pathetic sodden little corpse in through the cat door & proceeds with the final part of the ritual. So determined is she in this that she bought the same bird inside 4 times, twice recovering it from the front garden where I threw it from the front door, carrying it round the house to the back door & giving me that "I dare you to take it off me again asshole," look. So I did & put it in the wheely bin this time.

We have noticed that Fattums has been having more than her fair share of success with little finches recently. Herself found out why today. You see, we give Mr Dog regular bones to eat. Having been told in no uncertain terms that the hall carpet is NOT the preferred place for canines to masticate, he has settled for just outside the back door. Being the time of year that it is, the little finches & waxeyes come down to pick at the marrow & meat shreds left on these bones.

Herself saw an extremely cunning cat at work. What you do, is sit just inside the cat door, which is in the back door, with your nose just poking discreetly through & quietly wait. Sooner or later a poor starving little unsuspecting Finch will come down for a feed.. BAMMMM. Goodbye Mr Finch. Wicked little bitches that they be....

Well, this time next week we will be seated & anxiously awaiting the arrival on stage of The Frames. As you may recall from an earlier post, they are the opening act for Bob Dylan. I have seen on the Herald web site that there is such a demand for tickets to the Auckland show, that there is another concert booked for a Sunday, two weeks later. At the ticket prices, I think once will be sufficient for me. Rest assured that you will get a comprehensive review after the event..

later