23rd November now. I'm bursting to jump 10,000ft. *fingers crossed* 3rd time lucky!


Top 5 Reasons I Can’t Wait To Get My House Back Today
At #5 We all know how hip and cool I obviously sound when doing it,  though it’s probably for the best that no one else within punching distance will have to listen to me sing, rap, and generally get down.
#4 As untidy as my split-personalities are, they’re no where near as untidy as the one personality my housemate has. I blame a certain Amazing lass for causing sponge related disagreements between us ;) That aside, leaving plates for 24 hours with buttered knives out on the side is an offense punishable by death in my world.
– It’s a tidy world with few people in it don’t cha know :)
#3 Not having to ask for rent money each Saturday and get ‘a look.’
#2 Not having to hide my plans for world domination! They’re big plans which don’t fold too well.
#1 You know it and I know it, nekid hot chocolate runs! Err let me rephrase that, I mean making a run down the stairs starkers for hot chocolate! Me thinks it doesn’t sound much better either way for my unfortunate readers ;)



Challenge for Nov 10:
Oooooh, you're gonna get itttttt!
 We were all kids once. Do you remember a time you got into trouble as a small child? What did you do? Or, as they say in prison, what were you accused of? How were you punished?

 Oh you’ll not believe this one. See back in Milton Keynes when I was a wee’un, running around the streets till we couldn’t see the football anymore, there was a kid called Kevin Smith. I must have only been 14 or so and as yet to shoot up like Jack’s beanstalk.  So! Kevin Smith was an evil bastard. A year younger than me and about 8 years wider. To this day I’ve not the faintest idea why he had it in for me? I guess some people are just evil bastards trying to take out some of their sh*t on others.

 I’ve digressed. It was 8pm or thereabouts. I’d just been struck with a mad craving for Haribo. Out the door I tottered, wrapped up warm for the 10 minute walk to the garage. On my way I spied my nemesis hanging out with some of his cronies.  At this point in my life I’d developed the pig-headedness but was still waiting on the defensive know-how. A fair bit of abuse was shouted in my general direction but I trudged on regardless committed to getting my Haribo!

 Jobs a good’un. I got them!

 Now I walk out the garage and over the grassy bit…when from out of no where a giant meet-hook of a fist swings round from behind me and clocks me in the face! I get kicked and punched a few more times for good measure. I’d like to say I got in a few digs of my own but the truth is that I got my ass whooped. After a few minutes getting filled in the onslaught subsided and I was able to get up. I opened my packet of sweets and took a handful of Haribo to sweeten my misery.

Right! Still not too clear how I got into trouble for this now is it? Let me explain…

 I wondered home with a bloodied nose and a left-eye shiner! I opened the door to 39 and slide into my room unannounced determined to finish the rest of my sweets in peace, read the rest of my Terry Partachett book, and call time on a crap evening. This wasn’t happening though because there was a knock at the door.
‘Richard, some friends of yours are at the door.’ My Mums voice.
My shouting back being busy fell on deaf ears. My mum walks into my room to get me to go to the door. At this point she sees (well this is what I would have seen), a sniffling kid with puffed up eyes, a bloodied nose, and a black-eye. From this my mum deduces that I’ve been in a fight. Fair enough that’s the obvious thing. However she also assumes it was my fault. This despite me proclaiming my innocence. Hell, you could count the amount of fights I used to get into on just the one hand!
‘I want you to go to the door and sort this out. I don’t want you bringing hassle to the door!’
I got shoved out the front door which rather courteously got shut behind me.

 Eventually (after a few more threats of getting an ass-kicking) the group left and I got back into the house. I remember to this day that it took a few hours more still before my Mum wouldn’t even consider that I hadn’t done something wrong to deserve the ass-whippin’. To this day I’m still not sure she ever believed me?

 You know? I'm not claiming I've had the worst childhood in the world. Reading some of the entries you guys have shared with me has literally had me in tears. Just, I never felt connected to my mum. It makes a hard life even harder.
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Apparently there are people in this world who look forward to going to work.
Smug bastards :)

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