18 June 2005

Pussy pictures...

... are what this post should've contained.

Yup, I was going to get a cat. Of course, I'm the unluckiest person in the world, so the day before I was supposed to collect the cute, fluffy little thing from the cat shelter, I got a phone call saying he had ringworm and was going to the vets. And staying there until he was treated which would take several months. Of course, I'm upset for the poor little thing for being unwell. But I'm also upset for me dammit! I want feline companionship!

At least I did get a slight feeling of "I knew it," - that's the one enjoyable thing about being unlucky... you can be smug when your life goes wrong.

I should've heard back from the shelter by now about when he's again likely to be rehomed. Because this is me they've probably forgotten that I wanted him and I'll never hear from them again. While he gets to be housed with someone else (who probably won't love him as much as I could).

On my way home from work today (yup, had to be there at 9am on a Saturday - told you, unlucky) I was pondering how unlucky I am when some chewing gum on the pavement which had been turned explosive by the heat, went 'splat' all over my wheel. That was fun trying to scrap that off in the blazing sunshine. If you get gum on your clothes, your supposed to put it in the freezer so you can pick it off, right? What do you do with a 24" wheelchair wheel? My freezer's tiny because I had to find a fridge-freezer small enough to fit inside my airing cupboard (just don't ask...). Littering the pavement (on a street of local shops complete with Jay-and-Silent-Bob-A-Like loiterers outside) with used Wet Ones trying to remove the gum did little good.

So I have one sticky wheel. Oh the joy. My wheelchair wheels are becoming audible too. They shouldn't be. Usually a sign that they need replacing, even though it's less than a year since I last had a complete set of 4 new wheels on my chair. See - me = unlucky. I just hope the process is less traumatic and drawn out than last time.

A couple of weeks ago a friend and I went to go to Rigby & Peller to get fitted for bras (because having a stranger play with your boobs is really an experience that should be shared with a friend). Were we successful? No, the queue was too long so they'd stopped letting anyone else be fitted for the day. And I'd dragged my arse into Mayfair for nothing.

OK, that last reference isn't really that relevant to the post. But, hey. I gratuitously wanted to get the word 'boobs' into a post beginning with the subject line "pussy pictures."

You see; I know what people have typed into a search engine to come to my blog. In fact, of every 100 people that visit this site, about 85 of them have come by this page by typing "babe blog" into one of Google's global counterparts. I now no longer occupy the top spot on the search results for 'babe blog' but the traffic from people entering that phrase still constantly flows this way nonetheless.

Coming here must be a real disappointment. I would imagine that someone so desperate as to type "babe blog" into a search engine would be on the hunt for a blog containing pictures of scantily clad pretty ladies. Instead they find the not-very-interesting wifflings of a most unattractive grump. Sorry to those of you disappointed by the lack of actual babeness - it was a nickname I got stuck with (irony perhaps?). Deal with it.

A couple of weeks ago someone actually found my blog by typing "his penis her wheelchair" into Google. Where did he want to put it?

I know I may make constant jokes about my Quickie, but, really...

Of course, when I saw that someone had actually typed that, the first thing I thought was "if you got a wheel spinning fast enough, the spokes could probably act like the blades in a food blender..." That sounds like a far better motivation to push fast than having to try and make Spokie Dokies shut up back in the 80's.

So, to Mr His Penis Her Wheelchair (cos it had to be a bloke that typed that), I've found a song just for you. WARNING: This link is not suitable for the easily offended. And also, as Spitting Image once sang 'and though you hate this song, you'll be humming it for weeks.'

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