Friday, 30 May 2008


Several women I know have asked for me an explanation of Marketing.
Perhaps the following analogies will help clear it up:

You see a handsome guy at a party. You go up to him and say,
"I'm fantastic in bed."
-- That's Direct Marketing.

You're at a party with a bunch of friends and see a handsome guy. One of
your friends goes up to him and pointing at you says,
"She's fantastic in bed."
-- That's Advertising.

You see a handsome guy at a party. You go up to him and get his telephone
number. The next day you call and say,
"Hi, I'm fantastic in bed."
-- That's Telemarketing.

You're at a party and see a handsome guy. You get up and straighten your
dress. You walk up to him and pour him a drink. You say, "May I," and
reach up to straighten his tie brushing your breast lightly against his arm, and
then say,
"By the way, I'm fantastic in bed."
-- That's Public Relations.

You're at a party and see a handsome guy. He walks up to you and says,
"I hear you're fantastic in bed."
-- That's Brand Recognition.

You're at a party and see a handsome guy. You talk him into going home
with your friend.
-- That's a Sales Rep.

Your friend can't satisfy him so he calls you.
-- That's Tech Support.

You're on your way to a party when you realize that there could be
handsome men in all these houses you're passing. So you climb onto the
roof of one situated toward the centre and shout at the top of your lungs,
"I'm fantastic in bed!"
-- That's Spam.

So that's that explained

Sunday, 25 May 2008


I live on the same block of land that I was born on.
I knocked my parents house down a few years back and built a new house.
Sure, it's newer, sure it's bigger and it now has three toilets and two bathrooms but the biggest difference between the two houses is that I have roller shutters protecting the front windows, security doors and dead locks protecting the entrance doors, padlocks on the side gates and keyed window locks on all of the windows.

How sad is it that my parents wouldn't even lock the back door of their house and the side gate was only closed to keep the dog in and they were never burgled in the 45 years that they were here----yet I've already, with all of that security, been broken into once.
There is no longer any respect by people for another persons property.

God, my parents used to leave money out with the milk bottles and have milk delivered every morning---do that now and your money has gone, the bottles have been smashed in your driveway and your garden gnomes (ok, I haven't got any ) have been kidnapped.
A friend of mine paid over $4000.00 to have his front yard landscaped---six months later, he woke up one morning to find 6 pencil pine trees had been stolen---two months later, he returned from holidays to find three half ton moss rocks had been taken.

As teenagers, my friends and I had great respect for the local community police officer---he would give you a kick in the arse and tell you to go home----
You wouldn't tell you parents because you would get another kick in the arse at home and grounded for a month for coming to the attention of the police.
If a police officer did that today, a parent would have him before the courts or a disciplinary tribunal and he would be on the unemployment line quicker than he could draw his truncheon.

As a child, I knew better than to throw a tantrum in a shop, because I would get the whack on the arse that I deserved and every adult in the shop would applaud-----do that today and the parent is charged with assault and the child put in the care of some strange family who will no doubt sexually assault them.

And for God sake, don't show too much public affection towards your child because you will offend someone and they will report you to some Families Department and you will be forever labeled as a sexual predator.

Now, when your house gets broken into or someone steals your car and it is a juvenile apprehended for the crime, don't expect to see them serving time in a Juvenile Facility-----no, no, expect to receive a Court ordered letter of apology from the offender written just before he breaks into your neighbours house----and when he gets caught for that one, you and your neighbour can compare letters
Gone are the days when that same Juvenile will serve time in a Facility because we shouldn't do that to children because it is not their fault----its likely to be their parents fault because they cant keep them home at night----and they cant keep them home at night because if they try, then the child will report them to some Families Department and the parents will be prosecuted and the children installed in some foster facility that will let them go out at night to break into houses----or the children will hit the streets and the Government will give them money to live away from home.

Of course these kids will grow up and finish up in the adult courts and eventually be sent to gaol----a little too late----
Now we cant sentence prisoners to hard labour any more, so while they are in gaol, we cant make them do anything towards their own rehabilitation-----so they just associate with hardened older offenders and learn all of the tricks of the trade for re offending upon release----or if they are a little on the weak side, they can become a cell bitch for some big guy who isn't getting out for some time.

Ok, we have come a long way in other areas.
You live next door to me and you worship what you like with whoever you like whenever you like with the freedoms you should never have had to wait for.
Your daughter will take my managerial job one day and I will be as proud of her as you are.
My pale colour and round eyes are no longer an issue to you

Thank your God that we have come a long way----but are you sure that we should have come this way ?

Tuesday, 20 May 2008


Sorry, I've got lazy this week so I've just grabbed this from a few things stored on my drives.
The contents are not necessarily the views of this guy


Blow job Etiquette (by a female)

1. First and foremost, we are not obligated to do it.

2. Extension to rule #1 - So if you get one, be grateful.

3. I don't care WHAT they did in the porn video you saw, it is not standard practice to cum on someone's face.

4. Extension to rule #3 - No, I DON'T have to swallow.

5. My ears are NOT handles.

6. Extension to rule #5 - do not push on the top of my head. Last I heard, deep throat had been done. And additionally, do you really WANT puke on your dick?

7. I don't care HOW relaxed you get, it is NEVER OK to fart.

8. Having my period does not mean that it's "hummer week" - get it through your head - I'm bloated and I feel like shit so no, I don't feel particularly obligated to blow you just because YOU can't have sex right now.

9. Extension to #8 - "Blue Balls" might have worked on high school girls - if you're that desperate, go jerk off and leave me alone with my Midol.

10. If I have to pause to remove a pubic hair from my teeth, don't tell me I've just "wrecked it" for you.

11. Leaving me in bed while you go play video games immediately afterwards is highly inadvisable if you would like my behavior to be repeated in the future.

12. If you like how we do it, it's probably best not to speculate about the origins of our talent. Just enjoy the moment and be happy that we're good at it. See also rule #2 about gratitude.

13. No, it doesn't particularly taste good. And I don't care about the protein content.

14. No, I will NOT do it while you watch TV.

15. When you hear your friends complain about how they don't get blow jobs often enough, keep your mouth shut. It is inappropriate to either sympathize or brag.

16. Just because "it's awake" when you get up does not mean I have to "kiss it good morning".


A Man's thoughts on Fellatio aka Rebuttal Etiquette (by a male)

1. First of all, yes you're obligated to do it. If you don't, we will find someone (younger, prettier and dirtier) who will.

2. Second, swallowing a teaspoon full of cream is a hell of a lot easier than licking a dead fish.

3. You want to talk about farting? Does the word "queef" mean anything to you?

4. I will use your ears as I see fit. Don't worry about it and be thankful I'm not pulling your hair.

5. When you're on your period, stuffing something in your mouth is the only way to stop you from bitching and moaning. Suck it up!

6. Speaking of which, if you are bleeding for five straight days, you need all the fluids you can get. Trust me.

7. You bitch about the taste, but trust me when I tell you that we get the short end of the stick in flavor country.

8. At least there is no danger of a dick bleeding in your mouth.

9. Play with the balls.

10. No matter how good you think you are at it, we've had better.

11. Caress the ass, too. We like that!

12. Make hay when the sun shines. it's "wide awake" in the morning now, but when you get old & fat and looking for some action, I gah-ron-tee it'll be "sound asleep".

13. If you swallow, then you don't have to worry about getting any on your face, now will you?

Monday, 19 May 2008


Come on, you are reading blog posts---you have to believe in fantasy
Although I must admit to sticking to the facts recently and I'm going to again.
This is almost a Ha, got ya Clyde.

So guys, come on, admit it---you all have these sexual fantasies
They might involve female bloggers---and hello to Kylie, Fanny, Keshi, Uber, Steph, Stacy, Ann, Deborah, Pri, Eve, Kali-----come on---no stones here----I'll admit to being a tart.
But back to it----the fantasies

Now guys, you might like a little dressing up, or a little pain, or little outdoor activity but in the end it comes back to the big two----no, not a nice pair of mammary glands----although, if you are Japanese, you want to add in Bukake--look it up folks.
So the big two are a threesome or a Mother and Daughter duo.

Now I have to admit about fantasising about both of the big two but I have to admit that I have been given the oportunity of the threesome and bailed out.
It's a great dream but who wants to share with another guy and who needs two lovely ladies giving you a critique on your performance----hey and most guys I know are the same.
Besides all of that, I would rather concentrate on one special lady.

Ok, here it comes.

So last year and early this year, I had a relationship with a wonderful young lady a fair bit my junior----hey come on---she picked me up---no stones to be thrown here.
It lasted just on four months and ended on very friedly terms------hey, it was never gonna last but was fun for both of us.

Last week she phoned me-----first contact for four months----we had this great conversation til she said to me "Do you know CB"-----
I though and said that I didnt remember the name---she said "What about CT"----I still didnt remember or couldnt relate til she said "Check you school year book for this year".
Well then it came back-----of course I remember----yes we went out a few times (I wasnt going to mention the very enjoyable under aged sex) in high school.
OK---punch line folks.
She said, "Glad you remember her, she's my Mum"

Fark, I wish people would label their fucking children.
Of course I didn't tell her that mummy and I had played under aged tonsil hockey and hide the sausage
And of course I didn't tell her that she was better that her mother----
So it was an "Ah, yes, we were in the same class"----which was followed by her giggle and a request not to tell her mother that we had been playing hide the sausage for a few months.

Hey, I dont want to tell her mother-----who wants to get involved with those old folks.

OOOHEEEEEE-----Mummy and daughter------shit, Mummy was younger than the daughter when we played------but the fantasy fulfilled---

OK, it was unintentional---so no burn in hell for me

Sunday, 18 May 2008


My father used to walk our dogs on the beach as often as he could.
He was a quiet little man of very simple pleasures and always came home with shells and pebbles----in the end he had beds of pebbles throughout his gardens

The first storm of autumn hit our beach this week bringing all new treasures of the sea up onto the sand. The pooch and I seem to have the beach to ourselves on days like this.-----A bit of wind and rain and most people look for a warm dry place to hibernate.

I have walked that beach thousands of times and have found plenty of bottles ----some of them left there and others washed up in the storms----but until two years ago I had never found that mystical message in a bottle.

There it was, bobbing in the shallows---a Jamacian rum bottle with paper rolled up inside---there was a little water which I emptied straight out but the damp paper was stuck to the sides.
The thoughts that went though my mind as pooch and I walked home with our bottle---someone is stuck on an island and I'm going to get them off---it will be a message from some spunk on the other side of the world, looking for love---someone from a cruise ship wants to know where this has ended up.

I dried the note in the bottle in the oven and pulled it out with a wire hook----it was so sad.

I dont think the bottle had floated too far.
It was a letter from a young girl who had written it on the beach while drinking half of that rum.
It was a letter declaring her undying love to another girl.
She was declaring her love and outing herself as gay.
They had been best friends through school but she had never been game to tell her friend how she felt.
They had virtually lived for each other through school and now three years on but then her girl had found a boyfriend.
This girl was being gradually squeezed out of her girlfriends life and was alone.
She had never told her friend that she loved her as more than a friend and now her chance was gone.
She wrote about wanting to die---about not wanting to go on without her friend.

It was her love letter and this was the only address she could send it to.

I hope the sea took her sadness----I hope it took her anger---I hope it gave her peace

Sunday, 11 May 2008


I hope all of you who are mothers had a great day and that you at least heard from your family today.
And all of you who have mothers, I hope that you remembered to at least call your mother and tell her how much that you love her.

I didn't forget my mother and when the pooch and I set off for an early morning walk on the beach, I had a very special cargo in my backpack.

When my last dog died, I had her cremated. Kate was her name and she had spent a lot of her early life with Mum, Dad and my Brother.
Mum asked if I would keep her ashes til she died and spread them on our beach with hers.

I'd kept mum's ashes for two years and Kate's for six years but it was time and there could not be a better day.

So as their remains combined and mixed with the sands of the beach that they both loved so much I said goodbye----goodbye, happy mothers day and I love you both.

And you wonder why I walk that beach in the rain.

Saturday, 3 May 2008


Yes it is a song-----but you will get the point.

I was 16 years old when I was woken by my Grandmother yelling at the back gate---I brought her into the house before running up to her home to find my Grandfather dead on the floor. My Grandmother died two years later.
They were both in their eighties and not in good health ----- I dont ever remember telling them that I loved them even though I had spent all of my life seeing them on a daily basis.
I didnt cry at their funerals and I really havent ever missed them----I guess I thought their time was up----my paternal Grandparent died before I was 2 so I remember nothing of them.

My only brother and I were great mates til girls came on the scene---then he didnt want his little brother hanging around. But he supported me in everything I ever did.
When he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, the arse fell out of my world.
He was at home til three days before he died and we would talk the night away.
He was on morphine for the pain, so I would dose him up in the mornings before I went to work so that he was comfortable and slept most of the day in the care of my parents but only enough to take the edge off at night because he wanted to talk. The things we told each other fade as time goes by but I will forever remember the tears in his morphine clouded eyes when I told him that I loved him---I told him that he was my hero and that I would miss him til the day I died---and I still miss him and I still get very misty thinking about our night time talks.
I was with him when he slipped ito a coma but I still talked to him and kept telling him that I loved him------I was with him in the hospital 10 minutes before he slipped away and I told him again and told him it was OK if he needed to go now.

My heart sank when the phone rang---I had just got through the door, but I knew---
And then I had to hold my Mum and tell her that the son who had lived with her for 44years had just died.
That is he first time that I can remember telling my parents that I loved them----how must they have felt----your children are not supposed to die before you do.
My Dad was just stunned---he had blamed himself because the cancer was hereditary---he had survived two cancer operations in ten years.

From then on, I told my parents that I loved them as often as I thought I should---I think it almost made my Dad uncomfortable because he wasnt a touchy feely bloke--I dont think that there was much love in his family.

I lost my Dad before he died---dementia took him away----I visited him every day in a nursing home----he was happy but I was sad that it was no longer my dad---I got no reaction but I still told him that I loved him.
I'm sad to say that it was almost a blessing when he died----I was with him and said goodbye and told him that I loved him.

Mum and I were great friends and her health was reasonable til she slipped into a coma after a short illness----she came back(apparantley due to being off her regular medications and now on morphine) for about 30 minutes---I'm lucky, I was there with her.
She asked if she was dying and who was I to lie to my mother---she checked that I had everything ready and that I would be alright----told me that she loved me and slipped back to her sleep----
I held her hand and talked to her in many visits over the next three days and always left her teling her that I loved her------
I knew that she wouldnt last that night and that phone call came.

I dont think that I could have got past losing any of them without knowing that they loved me and without me telling them that I loved them.

You never know when you are going to lose someone, so dont have that regret that you never got to tell them

Do it now---do it when you leave for work in the morning----do it before you go to sleep at night-----end your phone calls with it


"Hey, are blokes supposed to cry"
"Yes Clyde, if they have feelings"
"So I'm just showing my feelings then"
"Yes Clyde, and you are not frightened to show them"
"No, I dont mind people knowing how I feel"
"Good, now pour me another Bourbon"

Thank you Rod Stewart