Cartoon Capers...

listening to: Mötley Crüe - 'Girls, Girls, Girls'
choice lyrics: "Girls, Girls, Girls, at the Dollhouse in Fort Lauderdale / Girls, Girls, Girls, Rockin' in Atlanta at Tattletails"

Hello there, fans of Polly! *waves* :)

As I'm sure many of you already know, Polly is still away in Majorca sunning herself (I can only imagine what the temperatures are like - phwoar!) and I was very flattered to have her ask me to do a guest spot on her blog while she was gone (in actual fact, I was so thrilled that I went and started up my own blogger account to make it easier for her to arrange!).

I'm Mich, and Polly and I used to live in a flatshare together along with some other lovely girlies. Alas, I moved out (well, I 'did a flit' in the middle of the night - a Glasgow tradition, some will say) but we're still great friends and I still sneak round to her place to get drunk (good times! I even hid in her cupboard once while the landlord was talking to her outside her room. No, seriously!).

I did express a fear that whatever I write may disappoint, or perhaps even alienate... but Polly has reassured me that as long as I don't refer to her ex as a douchebag, it'll be fine. (oh...whoops!) hehehe :P

Well anyways...

Yesterday I admitted to one of my male friends about the dirty dreams I've recently had (my shameful confession can be found here), which resulted in the throwaway comment from him: 'well if it was Family Guy characters you were dreaming about, it'd be more worrisome'.

Rather than let the conversation end there, I piped up: 'Lois would be fun, though. She knows how to rock and roll.' ;)

Admit it, she's hot!

Thus, our talk descended into a debate over which female characters in 'Family Guy' or 'American Dad' we would sleep with (if we were cartoons too... and in the show... or something... actually, I'm not sure what the requirements were - boys don't really seem to consider such boundaries).

And it got me thinking... one of the girls I knew in High School once expressed an attraction to the male lead character in the Disney film 'Mulan'.
And I'm not sure if there's a straight man alive that would turn down Jessica Rabbit (from 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit?', and whose sexy, husky tones were provided by Kathleen Turner). Hell, I wouldn't turn her down - she's hot!

From the hysterical and frightening behaviour of teenage girls we've witnessed or heard about at Harry Potter or Twilight *gags* premieres, we already know that people can fall for or feel an attraction to a fictional character that an actor or actress portrays. But what about animated characters?

I think that I have once again accidentally succumbed to a male way of thinking, and am now curious to know...

If you could sleep with an animated character, who would it be and why?

My answer for now would still be Lois Griffin :P

FOOT IN MOUTH . . .

Here's a little guest post to keep you going while I'm away. (I know, it hurts. Get over it.) Just realised I never got a title for it, so I made one up. Hope that's okay, Meghan . . .


Hi Everyone, my name is Meghan from Blog Voyeur Turned Blogwhore. You may remember me from such posts as 'I like to fall down drunk' and 'Look How I offended that guy'. Our beloved Paula is currently holidaying in Majorca right now so I figured it's only fair that since she's getting her travel on, I'd share a travel story too and a definate TMI one at that.

One year my friend Melissa and I decided to hop a few hours to a different location in the sunny Okanagan (BC, Canada) to get some sunshine. Kelowna is considered one of the hearts of the interior so we got a few great days of beaching and hiking by the lake before heading off to back to college. We were chilling in the park one night observing and critiquing the clothes of the locals when a man started to stroll up close to us that had on short shorts, a tshirt, kneehigh socks and bulky sneakers. Perhaps it was the drink that influenced it but I could NOT help but start to laugh and comment loudly on his choice of gear. I think my exact words may have been along the lines of, "Ohmigod, do you see those socks with shorts? That's so bad. All he needs is a fannypack and he'll be set.Bwahahahahahahahaha."

I waited for her to laugh along with me but she was oddly quiet and uncomfortable looking. That's when I turned around and saw that he was RIGHT THERE behind us. And it wasn't different coloured socks he was wearing, but in fact artificial legs. I just made fun of a man who had artificial limbs. About the limbs. And he heard.

I'm going straight to hell.

It's seriously one of the most mortifying moments I've ever had and I can't believe I shared it on Paula's blog muchless mine, but can confirm that ever since I have left the fashion policing to Perez*Idontcondoneviolence*Hilton. Unless of course you're wearing a Von Dutch baseball cap, then you're fair game.

I SEE DEAD PEOPLE . . . OH, WAIT, NO, THAT'S BRUCE WILLIS . . .

Last night, I went over to the other side . . .

Just screwin' wit' ya. I went to a psychic night being held in a pub in Rutherglen. It was . . . interesting.

I've never been to a psychic. Or anything like that. Not sure how much I believe in that stuff to be honest. I go through phases of believing in certain phenomena, then change my mind. ANYWAY, I've always kinda wanted to go. Just like I've always kind of wanted to have my fortune read. But then been also really scared at the same time.

So we're in this pub (we were late. Oops) and there's a dude walking around. Doesn't particularly look psychic. In fact there was too things I noticed about him pretty much immediately. One - his massive gut. (Seriously. I was transfixed by how far it hung over the top of his trousers. And I say I'm not observant.) Two - the fact that he would go up to someone, say "I need to talk to YOU!" and then walk away from them like he'd immediately lost interest. Or had been repelled. His habit of pacing as he talked was perhaps meant to keep the audience's attention. It just made me dizzy. Perhaps I'd had too much wine? (Perhaps that's a rhetorical question? Hmmm... Let's ponder over that one.)

I was skeptical. A cynic. I watched the way he would say random things to people that would make them at first look confused, then suddenly light would begin to dawn. How many questions did he have to ask before he would actually hit on the correct answer? Sometimes, quite a few. Other times, they still looked confused. In which case, he would blame it on their lack of willingness to be connected to the dead person in question and walk away. Then there was the things he said which could be a fairly good guess. Such as "You were close to this person, weren't you?" That was probably the most obvious one. The other, slightly less obvious, but pretty much a given all the same was "I sense some sort of connection to Ireland." Hello!!! In Scotland, pretty much EVERYONE has some sort of Irish connection. It ain't exactly rocket science.

Anyway, I remained very much the skeptic. But there was this tiny part of me that kind of wanted him to turn around to me and have someone with him that wanted to talk to me. Just so perhaps I could somehow understand. The obvious choice was my Gran - we were only about three streets away from the house she shared with my Granda prior to her death. But then . . . I started to think about how my mum always says my little brother, who died of cot death at three months, is like our guardian angel, and I started to wonder if he could maybe turn up. And . . . I kind of wanted it to happen.

It didn't.

However, my friend got picked on. Not by name, of course. She was "the one in the pinky red top. Primark top. You know?" (Okay, we ALL wear Primark clothes but we don't necessarily want to be OUTED as a wearer). He proceeded to talk about a baby, a miscarriage, and tons of other cryptic stuff that she pretended to go along with. "And you . . . you thought you might be pregnant recently?" he added at the end. She shook her head. "Someone close to you then?" he prodded. At which point she turned around to yours truly and said "Well, SHE thought she might be . . ."

Yes. Thank you. In front of a pub full of crowded strangers, tell everyone about how I was a little worried that my period turned up over a week later than I expected it. And had mildly panicked me. Eek.

Suppose I should be at least glad that they WERE strangers . . .

THE COUNTDOWN IS ON . . .

Want to know something odd???

I have nothing to say.

I know, I know . . . it's amazing, isn't it? But sadly true. I feel mentally exhausted, despite the three day weekend. So weird. I have been back at work one day . . . and have only three days left . . . but I feel like the weekend is not going to come soon enough.

Today was a bad day. I don't even want to go into it. I just think some people are incredibly unjust and unfair at times, and other people like to stir up trouble. Enough said. I try so hard not to let this stuff bother me but . . . it's hard at times. When it comes down to it, when people are inclined to believe others over their own . . . what are you expected to do?

At least this weekend will be a special one. Since come Sunday I will be off to the island of Majorca for a week, swapping my usual Canary Islands adventures for the Ballearics instead. I've never been before, and the weather forecast is looking pretty great, so I'm really looking forward to it. Plus this is me and my sister's first ever holiday away together, just the two of us. We are both so excited about it, as I think we both need a holiday!

So no matter how down I may be about other things, at least I know I should have a lovely week away. Alcohol, nice food, some nice nights out, sunshine and lots of lazing about with trashy novels. I'm hoping it will be an awesome time.

Oh. Guess I had more to say than I thought . . .

So it's been a while since I did a PROPER "Cheer-Me-Up Tuesday" so let's have a decent-ish one this week . . . These were sent to me via email a while back and I really enjoyed these ones in particular so thought I'd share. I'd love to know where these people come up with these ideas . . .

ON A RANDOM NOTE . . .

I see you!!!!!!!!!

Freaked out? You should be...

Well, only the person who just googled me by name.

Oh yeah.

UPDATE: Yes, and you were STILL looking at me 45 minutes later. Yes, like I said before, statcounter can be pretty damn amazing . . .

A WATCHED PHONE NEVER BOILS . . .

Waiting for a phone call or a text is kinda like waiting for a kettle to boil, right?

You can't necessarily expect a text or phone call to come without you prompting it, much like you can't have a boiled kettle without actually switching the kettle on first (unless its a crazy self-heating-all-on-its-own type that senses you want a cup of tea and just starts the process itself. Is there such a thing? Anyway . . . )

But when you prompt a kettle to boil, you expect it to do so. Just like when you prompt someone to call you by, I don't know, texting THEM, you expect them to reply. To get SOME sort of contact back.

I suppose the difference is, unless the kettle is broken, it SHOULD eventually boil.

The person you wanted to text you back might never do that though . . .

PAVEMENT RAGE . . .

I am categorically not a morning person.

Really really not.

And this, combined with my extreme pavement rage (the pedestrian equivalent of road rage) makes me a special type of liability on the trip to work.

Yesterday morning, I was ready to kill someone.

You see, it wasn't just morning and I didn't just have my normal mildish dose of pavement rage. Oh no. Add to the mix the fact that I was tired, hungover and angry . . . and you had a girl teetering on the verge of homicide. Oh yes.

It started with the guy who appeared on a side street in front of me who was doing the most yucky, horrible hacking coughs. Approximately one yucky, extended cough per minute. As I got closer to him (he wasn't a particularly fast walker), I was more and more tempted to strangle him. Especially because he clearly wasn't helping himself, with his stupid fucking cigarette in his hand. Er - when you are coughing like that? Perhaps it's time to ditch the fags. Just a thought, asshat!

So as I emerged onto another main road, I managed to overtake him and immediately found myself with a new tormentor. This dude was walking behind me. Well, when I say "walking" . . . it sounded more like he was a giant elephant shaking the entire ground, he was banging his feet down so hard. I decided to cross the road to escape the noise. I can't stand people walking loudly behind me for extended periods of time.

Next thing I knew . . . of course, he'd followed me across the road. Argh!!!! I was ready to scream. Especially as he was then accompanied by his own annoying brand of coughing.

(I loathe the sound of coughing, FYI. You may have already worked that one out. It's one of those noises that makes me feel sick and does my head in completely. Which is why I particularly hate having the cold myself, cos I can't stand coughing, knowing how annoying I find it in other people)

I was walking faster and faster and everytime I heard that cough, and those big clodhopper feet banging away on the ground, I could feel my teeth involuntarily grinding together, my hands bunching into fists of their own accord. I was on the verge of turning around and screaming "Will you please stop moving and fucking shut up!" I reached Great Western Road and because I had just missed the green light and didn't want to have to wait so he would catch me up, I actually flung myself across the road in front of the traffic to escape him. Thankfully, I lost him at that point. Before I did actually kill him . . .

Several minutes later, a bus pulled up at a stop right before I reached it and of course people started disembarking with absolutely no awareness or consideration for those already on the pavement. I felt my rage, which had began to dissipate, well up once more as a guy stepped right in front of me and started slowly walking. While reading a fucking newspaper!!!

Seriously, you do not walk along the pavement reading a paper, it's absolutely ridiculous! I managed to navigate my way around him, waited at the next set of traffic lights, crossed the road . . . and two seconds later he crossed the road in front of me. On a really narrow bit of pavement. The paper had gone by this time, but he was still irritating because I now had to try and get around him while on a tiny strip of pavement. Argh! After managing this, I was then nearly mowed down by a cyclist. Who was on the pavement!!!

Then my next tormentor was guilty of something I hate nearly as much as coughing. Whistling!!! Walking while pursued by a tuneless whistle is decidedly unpleasant and vaguely reminiscent of some crappy horror movie. I tried to escape that as quickly as possible.

By the time I got to work, I was exhausted, sweaty and completely and utterly stressed out. It took all my self-restaint not to commit several murders or at the very least some grevious bodily harm. AND I still had to work for seven hours, on top of all that.

Ouch.

A LITTLE BREAK . . .

I may not be around for the next couple of days. Basically I need to try and avoid the internet as it appears to be feeding my paranoia more than a little. So for my own peace of mind, think I need to stay offline as much as possible, at least until I get my head on straight again (I know. When was it EVER on straight? But then again . . . )

I may last all of 12 hours before returning. Or it may be later on in the week. I will be back anyway, I can assure you of that. But just in case you have wondered where I have gone, I thought I should keep you all in the loop.

See you in a few days.

:-(

I got cancelled on again today.

I understand why but, all the same, I'm feeling very sad. And more than a little paranoid. The old insecurities have came rushing back with a vengeance.

I told myself I would never let a guy get to me so much again after the last one. Just like I ALWAYS tell myself. Why is it never that easy though? Why can't we just switch off our feelings like guys appear to be able to do?

Can anyone help to cheer me up???

SOME REMINDERS FOR MYSELF . . .

• Deciding to drink champagne from 11pm onwards is not the best idea.
  
• Especially not when I've already had several glasses of wine. LARGE ones.
  
• Especially not on a Wednesday night when I am working the next day.
• Neither is deciding after two bottles have been imbibed (between three of us), that a third bottle should be opened
• When the person who is actually OFF work the next day says they are tired and need to go to bed, I should think "Hmmm, since I AM working tomorrow, perhaps I should go to bed too . . ."
• Going to bed at 2am pissed as a fart is REALLY not a good idea if I am intending to be in work for eight.

I made it in for quarter to ten. And that was only with the aid of a taxi.

Bad Champagne! Bad, bad!!!!

RETURN OF THE SPAM . . .

I couldn't resist revisiting my spam files, because . . . sometimes the titles are just too damn good to resist poking fun at. It would be kind of like watching someone you really hate doing something really humiliating and . . . well, not LAUGHING. So what choice items have appeared in my inbox recently? Let's see . . .


Your life will be worthwhile if your penis grows a little.

Hmmm, hate to break it to you, but that might not be true. If you have, for example, the world's tiniest one and it only grows a little, it'll still be tiny . . .



We will deliver your watch exactly where you ask

Wow, delivery to wherever you want??? What a novel concept . . . On the other hand, perhaps they know how unreliable Royal Mail is . . .



Women always accept invitations to bed from hung men.

Necrophiliacs we are not. Well, not ALL of us anyway. Oh right, wait, I get what this means now. I think if you'd preceded the "hung" with "well", it might have been a little clearer . . .



Enlarging your machine is the best way to get your ex back.

I'm assuming they are referring to genitalia again. Personally I'd prefer a bigger TV or something to getting my ex back. Maybe that's just me though . . . ?



A watch speaks about its owner.

If my watch is speaking behind my back, I will NOT be happy. Unless it's complimentary, then I might forgive it . . .



Your thingy will get stiffy

Succinct.



Every man would give up his brain for a decent size.

Ah, is that what happened to the male of the species? (Just kidding, fellas!)



Make your banana huge

They're selling us fruit via spam now??? ;)



You can be ugly and stupid as long as your shaft is big.

I must have somehow missed the memo on that one . . .

AIRLINE FOR THE SERIOUSLY INSANE??? YOU DECIDE . . .

I have never flown with the budget airline Ryanair before. I have never particularly wanted to. I find Easyjet, which is pretty much the same airline as far as I'm concerned, bad enough. Not being assigned a seat at check in is IMMENSELY annoying for one thing.

But I read this article today and it REALLY took the cake . . .

Seriously, are they MENTAL??? "Bar stools" instead of proper seats? What the fuck???

Not remotely safe, surely?

I read another article where the argument for it was that people stand up on public transport all the time.

Er, yes, we realise that . . . BUT ON PUBLIC TRANSPORT THAT DOESN'T TAKE OFF, LAND, AND FLY THOUSANDS OF FEET IN THE AIR!!!!

Frankly, the very idea of this terrifies me to the core. Aeroplane seats can be bumpy enough as it is. But taking off for a flight perched on a BAR STOOL??? Oh yes, I can picture the sore arses now . . .

Does anyone think this is a good idea, or is this cost-cutting one step too far???

LIKE I WAS SAYING THE OTHER DAY...

... Statcounter can be fairly intriguing.

It's a blessing and a curse.

And when someone is searching for you by your NAME . . .

REPEATEDLY...

It's all very odd.

I hope you're enjoying yourself anyway . . .

TO . . .

. . . my new flatmate - what are you soooo fucking LOUD??? Seriously, turn DOWN the volume. I'm sure whoever is in your room with you will still understand you...

. . . the woman who I accidentally bumped into on the way out of the office - I realise I accidentally kind of touched your boobs; please don't sue me for sexual harrassment!

. . . the person who treats me differently from everyone else - perhaps you should give me the benefit of the doubt when I try to share a joke with you and NOT pull me up for something that wasn't even an issue. One rule for me, one for everyone else apparently. But then, that was my mistake to actually make an effort . . .

. . . the pub (whatever pub you are) - I will see you in an hour or so.

. . . the weather - hot weather and sunshine is welcomed but excessive heat and no sunshine? Not cool (literally AND metaphorically)

. . . my mind - why won't you just stop working overtime and try not to panic me too much?

OH . . . BALLS!!!

I just missed the entire Andy Murray Wimbledon match. I am absolutely raging!

We were keeping an eye on the score in the office and when I left it was 6-5 in the first set. By the time I got home, eager to see what was left of the match, I discovered Andy had already won and was already being interviewed off-court.

Dammit dammit dammit!!!

It's ironic because tennis is one of the few spectator sports I enjoy. Well, MALE tennis. At Wimbledon. When there's a British player playing. (I used to also enjoy when Mark Philopoussis was playing. And I also enjoy Nadal's arms, but he's not playing.)

I'm kinda a fairweather watcher I guess.

But hopefully Murray will give me something to watch when he plays the semi-final. Good luck Andy!!!

THIS POST IS FOR YOU . . . . . .

> > AND YOU ALONE . . .

Statcounter? It's a marvellous thing.

I've had it for nearly a year now. (In fact, I think I'm a mere week off my first anniversary)

I know when people pop by here. Always have.

People at my work (which they totally SHOULDN'T have been doing). Then the people (SAME people, I might add!!!)who got their FRIENDS elsewhere to read my blog and make copies and send it to them (which I don't know why - it's really NOT that interesting, even I will admit that!), even when the friend made it perfectly clear they couldn't stand me back in the day. (Wow, that's dedicated friendship for you...)

Or the ones who I assume want to know what is going on in my life but can't ask me??? Hmmm.

Thank god for the genuine peeps, who amazingly pop by cos they want to listen to my random rants. You are awesome and I want to thank you for that.