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Profile for Rev. Jayneflakes:
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Sort of moody looking, mildly irritable, Long hair, own teeth. I am not artistic and am useless with photoshop, but I can do handstands in the bath and wee! I am lying, but it seemed better than not being able to do anything at all. Also known for atheism, fart jokes and heart wrenching flatulence.

Got a new Blog thing going, lets see how long it takes before I lose interest and just start writing filthy words in it!

Have a link


Buy my book, it is shit, but I am hard up and cannot take blowing politicians for cash anymore!

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Best answers to questions:

» Fairgrounds, theme parks, circuses and carnivals

I am a support worker
and I work with a very disabled gentleman who I shall call Steve. Steve cannot speak, he cannot walk unaided and he has a damaged spine held together with a steel bar. Nature was unkind to Steve because inside all of the Autism and physical disability there is a kind and gentle human being who I am very fond of. It takes a special bond to be made a key worker and advocate.

Steve struggles going out, my co workers really struggle trying to motivate him to go out when I am not there and they usually resort to housework while Steve listens to the noise of the vacuum cleaner or his radio.

Last week on a glorious sunny Day a co worker and I decided that Steve needed a break from the house and the theme park down the road was open. So using basic language and Makaton (sign language for people with learning disabilities) I told Steve we were going to ride roller coasters and then get chips!

Steve was out of the door like a whippet on a track! Once at the park we queued for the rides which Steve is not good at, his level of Autism makes time an unreal concept for him and he wants stuff right there and then, but he waited for his go with more than his usual patience. I stood back and watched him ride the coasters. The smile on his face combined with the laughter said more to me than Makaton ever could. He rode every roller coaster and had two goes on the log flume. He finished it up with his chips and we went back home, where he lay on the sofa holding my hand and smiling.

I love my job, my mate Steve is awesome and I have had more fun with him than I have had with some of my fully able bodied friends.

Not my usual sickness, but it is all true.
(Sat 11th Jun 2011, 13:53, More)

» Will you go out with me?

Tis a sad and sordid story that ends happily with lesbian lust!
I split up with my Ex some time before, not because we hated each other, but because I think I wanted it more than him. He was lovely, but alas not The One. You see, my Mother read my Tarot and told me, you are going to meet a guy, but he will not stay and then you will meet the one.

I turned to Gaydar Girls, a lovely sight of a site where lots of beautiful elegant ladies all ignored me or told me that they just wanted to be friends.

Then I had a message from out of the blue. "Sat here sulking, scanning profiles, thought you looked like the sort of person I would get on with so thought I would say hi."

Hmm I think, sulking, sounds like my kind of girl so I replied and said that I was still a bit heart sore being freshly single by a couple of months. Then ping, a new message arrives. "Being just out of a relationship then we are both in the same situation, maybe we could 'not settle down' together sometime?"

We ended up swapping messages for ages and in the end even Gaydar Girls got fed up with us and we turned to e-mail and then phone calls. I missed her first call, I was doing something private, being recently post op TS (Oh the shock, I am admitting that I am Transsexual and a lesbian all in one post! Trans and proud me...)I needed to catch up with my physio. She left me a profane and ear splitting message on my answer phone that had me in fits of giggles.
I phoned her back and we talked non stop for an hour, exhausted we wished each other good night.

Then I was attacked in work by a group of school kids in a trans-phobic attack. I mention this because it is important. I left the area rapidly for the house of a good friend, who lived an hour and a half away from who shall for now call the one. The time away was just what I needed, but my heart ached to be so close to the one and yet so far away, also my friend, although a wonderful artist was experimenting with house dust and spider webs and I have a dust allergy.

The one met me at the railway station and I saw her right away, long leather coat, dark glasses and all in black. Very Matrix... I got through the gates and we met each other for the first time, but no words passed between us...

Well they couldn't, you see the world had faded away and all that existed was our first kiss, it was one of the most beautiful moments in my life, even beating the moment I woke up as a girl for the first time. I was to stay with her for two days, but this turned into a week and I had missed my train home again. So she popped me in her car and drove me home so I could go back to work...

I made it through half a day before I could stand it no more, four years of trans-phobic abuse by the kids at work had left me feeling hunted and miserable. Nothing happened to the kids who assaulted me and I felt like a target waiting to be attacked again. I phoned The One and said please come and get me and she did. She drove me to my Doctor and my Doctor told me I was too ill to be in work due to stress and fear. I was already taking huge amounts of antidepressants to cope with the abuse in the school. I cried a lot.

The one is called Carol and she is beautiful, red hair, eyes to drown in and a smile that can bring me to tears of joy. I love her with all of my heart, she rescued me and helped me get off of the drugs I was taking for depression, she got me out of a town where I was so unhappy and even bullied. She made me realise that I am a lovely woman and I do not have to be ashamed of my past anymore. She helped me start again and then she...


Proposed to me.

Carol, with all of my heart, I love you. How could I say no to the woman who taught me to be free?

Length:- none at all, it's an inny now!
(Sat 30th Aug 2008, 1:33, More)

» Helicopter Parents

More B3ta therapy
My Mother was a protective parent and to her I was fragile child who suffered with asthma, food allergies and migraine. You see, I suffered with terrible asthma and migraine for a lot of my childhood and then one day it just got better, I came off the asthma meds and hardly had a migraine. The miraculous cure was very simple. My Mother, who forbade me leaving our house because I was so ill, gave up smoking. She would smoke two packets of Embassy Number one a day and the house was like breathing in a bonfire.

To this day I react badly to smoking and can't stand to be in a smoky room because of the migraine I will suffer.

I grew up in Germany, Dad was in the army and I was an army brat. Back in the very early 80's a little girl was taken away and no doubt brutally buggered by a German Paedophile and she was never seen again. My Mother forbade me to play outside with my school friends because of the danger of paedo's. I finally managed to escape from my mother's grasp age twenty three when I fucked off to uni.

The whole Uni thing was a nightmare at first. As the day of my leaving drew near, my Mother started to say things to discourage me from going. At first it was simple things such as "are you sure you want to go that far away?". Too fucking right I did, my Mother insisted on running my life, taking what money I had and using me as a personal servant.

Two days before I went to Uni, my Mother told me that if I loved her then I would not go to Uni. She told me that if I went, she would be forced to kill herself and it would be my fault that my sister and brother would be forced to live with out a Mother. I wish I could tell you I was fine and strong, but in truth I cried on my sister and did not know what to do.

My Dad finally stood up to my Mother for me, the first and only time he ever did so and he drove me to uni himself. My Mother became an agonised mental case who screamed and cried for the last two days of my being at home.

Being at Uni was a revelation, I suddenly grew up and became the adult I was supposed to be and discovered the dangerous sports that I still love to this day.

I became a rock climber, my favourite climbing being solo climbing where I would climb my chosen route on my own with out a safety rope. I also became a mountain biker and as soon as I could, I made a break for the hills and rode like a fucking loony, putting myself in Hospital on two occasions that I remember and possibly one that I don't!

My Mother wrote to me every day, because the phone at Uni was always in use by Students from abroad phoning friends and family. This was before mobiles became popular. My mothers letter were always depressing and would inform me of the terrible things I was doing to my brother and sister while I was away from them. My mother would tell me that unless I returned home that day, she was going to kill herself and it was all my fault.

In the end the stress got too much for me and given that I was already coping with a darker and more personal problem of my own, the shit from my Mother pushed me over the edge and I tried to cut my wrists. My sister stepped in and told my Mother to back the fuck off.

Years later I was sat chatting with my sister and talk turned to our mental mother. My sister asked me why I had always been our Mothers favourite? I was really shocked, but as my sister saw it in her young eyes, our mother spent the whole time crying and telling people how much she missed her oldest child while the other two existed on badly cooked food and and no parental support.

My Mother's mental illness still causes problems when she tries to drive a wedge between my sister and I. Luckily, Sis and me are very close, she is more like a best friend than a sister and she has had almost as much therapy as me to recover from what our Mother did to us. It may sound like very little in this short story, but when every day your mother tells you (very graphically!) that should you step outside the front door you will be raped, murdered and god alone knows what else, it really does fuck you up.

Thanks Mum for the three years of therapy that you gave to us both, good job I liked my psychiatrist really.

Ahhh, I feel better now. The rage is fading and I just wish I could put into words just how much damage an over protective parent can do. My biggest fear is that I will turn into my Mother, my partner is under instruction that should I ever display any of my Mothers traits, I am to be shot immediately!
(Sun 13th Sep 2009, 20:50, More)

» Professions I Hate

I went for an interview with a lying shitbag company
The job advert on the Local job website said "Media Sales Executives" wanted. I have been unemployed for two months and am slowly going under, I need a fucking job and fast before I lose everything I own to pay the blood sucking local council's extortionate Council Tax bill. (Yes, I hate those utter cunts too. "Sorry Miss Flakes, you earn too much as a couple and so we are going to bleed you dry, take all of your possessions and fuck you over to pay for the Mayer to sit in the park and get blown by the Work experience girl!" Utter, utter bastards!)

Anyway, thinking that I had nothing else to lose, I applied. I can sit at a phone and sell advertising to companies... Or so I thought.

I got a phone call, "We were very excited by your CV, you seem perfect, can you come in for an interview tomorrow?" I should have known better, it was too good to be true. I dash off shopping. They said I need a business suit, thankfully the Employment service can help for a change, once they establish that yes I have an interview, no I do not have any boots other than my motorbike boots, I used to be a fucking mechanic for a living!

I got up at six AM and got ready, I even put on some make up to make myself look a little presentable, I then pulled on my bike gear and rode off into the morning. I was actually excited about this.

The Bristol rush hour was horrible and filtering through was nightmare, even allowing two hours to do a forty minute journey was pushing it. I was still super keen.

I got there, changed in the street out of my leathers, thankfully the nice stuff was underneath, so no actual nakedness, I put on my interview shoes and walking across the street and into the building. I started to worry, the people I was about to see shared an office with a Krishna Group.

The girl who met me was a fucking predator, all sparkly teeth and blond hair, too much make up and heels so high she was almost in stilts. I was shown to a seat and told to wait my turn. Twenty other "Just perfects" sat with me, some looked like they had been dressed by their Mum or their Carer.

After an hour, I finally ask to use the loo, being made to wait after that ride is not a good feeling. The loo was some what run down, the toilet role is a cheap Happy Shopper one and left on a ledge. The sink has no soap, the hand drier is broken, the wall has damp, the paint is peeling and I start to sense doom.

Finally I am asked in. This is not a fucking job interview, this is a sales pitch. Do I want to be a Private Contractor selling Door to fucking Door on a commission only basis?

No! I hate those fucking bastards who hassle you on your own front door to swap power supplier, phone company or dish washing powder.

I hate filthy lying well dressed shitebags who imply that you can actually earn a descent wage, but are lying so badly, you can see the cracks in their make up. No wonder the hollow eyed predator looked so fucking evil.

Mantra Marketing, The Cobra Group, I did some research, it seems I am not alone in hating them. Be careful out there folks, these scum want you to sell them your soul and then for you to intimidate and rip off the poor and the ill-informed!

Man I hate those who prey on those too desperate to have a choice. I also hate the Council and I hate the banks that put this country in sucha fucked up state. I have never had problems finding work since leaving University in 1998, but now I am stuck on the dole, facing a future that is rapidly going down the toilet. Utter uter bastards all of them.

Sorry for length, but my god they were pricks, also for ranting, but you did ask... Grrrrrrr
(Thu 27th May 2010, 14:19, More)

» Flirting

I was working in a bike shop
Yeah, it was late 96 and I was at Uni, working part time time in the bike shop to fund my habit, two Konas and an orange, when in to the work shops walks a beautiful smile with a person attached behind.

All I saw was the smile. She wanted her brakes fixed, I obliged and chatted, sunning my self in the radiance of that smile. She giggled at my lame jokes, I told her how to fix a brake pad right and then I was finished and she rolled her bike away from me.

The other mechanics, a lad of about sixteen, a guy closer to fifty and my mate, about the same age as me, fell about laughing.

They had just seen me flirting with a rather ugly, rather spotty, gap toothed, track suited, over weight Ginger girl.

All I saw was the warmest smile in the world. I still feel no shame. Where ever you are ugly, spotty ginger girl, I hope it made your day.
(Fri 19th Feb 2010, 8:20, More)
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