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Profile for Free pens:
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You can ask me any question, I promise to always lie.

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» Road Trip

Got another one!
As a kid we used to go and visit our family in Northern Ireland. We made the epic journey from Clacton-on-sea, in Essex to Northern Ireland. Imagine it is 1987......

My mother plus my brother aged 8 plus me aged 6 plus luggage.
1. Bus from bottom of our road to train Clacton station.
2. Train from Clacton to Liverpool Street.
3. Liverpool Street sleeper to Edinburgh.
4. Train from Edinburgh to Glasgow.
5. Train Glasgow to Stranraer.
6. Ferry from Stranraer to Larne.
7. Bus from Larne to Belfast.
8. Coach from Belfast to Omagh.
9. Phone call to family to pick us up.

My brother managed to be sick in to the hood of his Parka jacket when on the bus from the end of our road to Clacton train station.
(Fri 15th Jul 2011, 13:53, More)

» PE Lessons

On the one hand.......
There was one lad in our class who had been in an accident as a kid and as a result had to have his arm amputated from just below the elbow. This lad was very sporty and particularly talented at football and played for the school team. He was an all round good egg, so to speak.

One day we were doing gymnastics, or as I liked gymnasties. All is going along until the particularly sadistic teacher stops the class, singles this lad out and asks him why he isn’t doing cartwheels or handstands?

We got changed early that day and that teacher left at the end of term.
(Fri 20th Nov 2009, 12:45, More)

» Narrow Escapes

I could have been deaded!
If instead of getting dressed and going to work this morning I shot myself in head, followed by drinking poison all the while getting stung by killer bees.

Phew, what a morning that wasn't.
(Tue 24th Aug 2010, 14:17, More)

» Prejudice

People who have no other conversation other than
FACEBOOK! Or specifically the people who use then talk about it and use it like it’s a portal to another world.

No it’s not. It’s your friends and family you ring if you want to know something or speak to them and a bunch of people you barely know.

I am not ashamed to say it I don't like face book. I not interested in reading about if someone I went to school with is 'thinking happy thoughts' with tiny stars and kisses either side. Or if my mum’s next door neighbour’s daughter is eating a bacon sandwich because she is sooooo hung over, even if it is the bestest best bacon sandwich ever. It just makes me want to poke her eye out with a dismembered cock.

For me Facebook sums up all that is wrong with the society we have created – you can be a celebrity you have your own captive audience your ‘friends’ put photos of your self for your fans to admire and of course tell them all about your super hectic social life but don’t forget you, the spiritual and emotion you. How you are super positive with a deep understanding of your self and closeness to animals and mother-nature with picture of you snuggling a teddy bear and a couple of apps that send all your friends annoying daily messages and a picture of something new age looking.

My prejudice is FACEBOOK ALRIGHT and I might not have as much respect for you as I once did if you tell me you use facebook.
(Wed 7th Apr 2010, 17:35, More)

» Sexism

I dont like sexism.
I am female and have a male partner. Therefore gender roles now play a part of my life.

As a youf I was strongly opposed gender specific roles, when I was at school I refused to help clear out the art store cupboard. “Just because I am female does not mean I will do domestic chores - This is SEXIST.” I even refused to wear make-up or ‘fancy’ underwear for many years, under the impression these were bindings of gender repression. I was one of those types.

Now in my adulthood I find myself, wearing make-up and underwear to look nice for my man. I pick up and wash dirty clothes that don’t belong to me, cook the dinner of his choosing, I sew on buttons, iron his clothes, clean up mess I have not made, ask him to take the bin out, move the heavy suitcase, open jars for me, to fix my bike. All these tasks I am perfectly capable of doing myself and likewise as is he. So, why do I do it? Because, I like doing things for him and I like him doing things for me and I like saying thank you to him too.

We do not conform the ‘1950s domestic bliss’ ideal either – He studies and I work – I earn more money than him and I expect I will continue to do so for many years to come. He wants to get married and have children – I want to be financially secure before starting a family and I don’t want to get married. He likes dancing to romantic songs, I do not. When I get upset I usually get angry and rarely cry, when he gets upset he gets angry and has been known to cry. I don’t what to paint myself as some kind of hard faced fishwife type and he my wet milk fed hubby, either.

Doing domestic chores I could be accused of reinforcing an outdated and outmoded female stereotype, which has enslaved women into centauries of domestic servitude. Why do I do ‘house work’ because I like it – I like to live in a clean house, I like to look after my man.

I am a woman but my head is not filled with endless hormonally driven thoughts of clothes, shoes and chocolate. No more than it is about high strength larger, the political situation in the middle east, smoking, the value of the £ against the € or $, what I want to watch on TV tonight, what is in the fridge, the last time I had sex, the next time I will have sex, what book will I read next, that I must ring my best friend and I must sort out cancelling my gym membership.

But one thing that I fail to understand – why do men like to urinate around the toilet? Yes, I urinate generally into the toilet (unless I am caught very short) not around the toilet then I take a moment to flush it away, nor do I leave it for the next person like a golden offering.

Is this a hanger on from the times when it was necessary mark territory?
(Mon 4th Jan 2010, 13:41, More)
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