» Sleepwalking

A cunning linguist
My mother speaks seven languages fluently and used to chunter away in them around the house (she talks to herself). As a little kid, I accepted this as normal, but never learned any of the languages myself (except English, vaguely).

However. One night when I was about three, my mother came into my room to see if I was asleep. I was, so she was leaving, when I started talking to her. In my sleep. In Latin. We had a half-hour long conversation in Latin, in which I displayed perfect grammatical skills and a wide Latin vocabulary. The next day she woke me up, buzzing with excitement, and chattering away in Latin, none of which I understood. When she tried to remind me of our conversation, I looked at her blankly.

Since then, I have never spoken Latin again, sleeping or not. But somewhere I HAVE THE SKILL.
(Thu 23rd Aug 2007, 17:52, More)

» Cougars and Sugar Daddies

Sugar mummy
I don't know why but ever since I was about fourteen, I have really liked older women. The classy kind, you know, the ones who go for lunch and smoke those really thin cigarettes and talk French.

So there's me, twenty-one, a skinny blonde chick, and I was in a bar and in came this lady with a mink coat and diamonds and a husky voice. I thought she was just charming. Apparently it was mutual.

So she was fifty-six. Whatever. We started dating. Her daughter was older than me. She was older than my parents. Whatever.

So one day she took me out to dinner in this fancy restaurant where I had to pretend to know how to use the fork, and when we came in, the maitre d' came up all smiling to say hello to her, and he said "Oh how lovely to see you Elise, is this your daughter?"

It would have been quite embarrassing, except that she just smiled evilly and said "NO."

He said "Congratulations!"

Oh dear me. I have never been so obviously lesbian-arm-candy in all my days. Then I realised that although for me it was a fetish or something, she probably just assumed she was my sugar mummy. I tried to convince her that I was actually with her for her looks, but she wasn't buying it. So we broke up.

I always seem to get things backwards.
(Tue 9th Dec 2008, 6:33, More)

» The Dirty Secrets of Your Trade

Here's mine...
I am a fashion model. And the big secret here is that pretty much any tall girl can be a fashion model. Seriously. If you're over 5'7" they'll probably sign you. You can have the face of a monkey, it doesn't matter. Also, all that stuff about models having to learn how to walk is a load of crap, we make it up as we go along, and to be honest, walking isn't *that* difficult. We eat chocolate. We have cellulite and flabby bits. We look completely boring without makeup on.

Interestingly enough, the most important thing that gets Photoshopped away is excess body hair. Not in my particular case (blonde etc), but with most of the girls in my agency. Just a hint of arm hair is horrifying (and harder to shop away than the roll of fat I have around my thighs).

So there you are: modelling, far less exclusive than we pretend it is.
(Sun 30th Sep 2007, 0:04, More)

» Accidental animal cruelty

Not as dramatic as most...
Mine isn't that bad. I had a daft-headed Irish setter who loved food. Her favourite thing to do was steal food, she didn't always eat it, sometimes she just put it in her bed and lay on it and refused to get up. But anyway.

One of her favourite things to eat was cheese. So one day I was sitting around and I dropped her a lump of Cheddar. She ate it off the floor (couldn't catch anything, ever) and was happy. So I dropped her another. Same thing. Then I dropped another one, but it accidentally went into her water bowl. So she stuck her long nose into the water bowl and fished it out, making squirfling noises and bubbles. I thought this was so funny that I started dropping cheese into her water bowl on purpose. I'm sorry, but a dog farting out of its nose really is kind of funny.
(Tue 11th Dec 2007, 9:33, More)

» Phobias

Little holes...
I don't know why, but for example, stones with a lot of little holes and a spongelike appearance make me want to die.

No but I'm serious. Lotus seed pods? Can't stand them. I'm okay with holey French cheese, but when blue cheese gets lots of tiny little holes around the mould, I can't even look at it.

Isn't that weird? I looked it up, it's apparently a real phobia, its name is trypophobia... so there you are. It's completely rational!!
(Fri 11th Apr 2008, 1:54, More)