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Sorry being absent for awhile, I was busy talking to strange people who think that a computer can guess what they think they want it to do.

I got into slight trouble for reacting - no surprise there then.

"You fucked it up you twat, you fix it" is apparently not the thing to say on a helpdesk - or so I learned on my 'back to basics' course.

So, I shut the fuck up and surfed the net, where I found this - (which amused me):-

Decoding Womens Personal Ads

40-ish - 49, and then some
Adventurous - slept with everyone
Athletic - no breasts
Beautiful - Pathological liar
Emotionally secure - on medication
Feminist - Fat
Free Spirit - junkie
Friendship first - former slut
New-age - body hair in wrong places
Old fashioned - no blow jobs
Open-minded - desperate
Outgoing - loud and embarrasing
Professional - bitch
Voluptuous - hugely fat
Wants soul mate - stalker

AHA - In a shit Norwegian band way, I thought - but then I found this....

FOXY LADY: Sexy, fashion-conscious blue-haired beauty, 80's, slim, 5'4" (used to be 5'6"), searching for sharp-looking, sharp-dressing companion. Matching white shoes and belt a plus.

LONG-TERM COMMITMENT: Recent widow who has just buried fourth husband, and am looking for someone to round out a six-unit plot. Dizziness, fainting, shortness of breath not a problem.

SERENITY NOW: I am into solitude, long walks, sunrises, the ocean, yoga and meditation. If you are the silent type, let's get together, take our hearing aids out and enjoy quiet times.

WINNING SMILE: Active grandmother with original teeth seeking a dedicated flosser to share rare steaks, corn on the cob and caramel candy.

BEATLES OR STONES? I still like to rock, still like to cruise in my Camaro on Saturday nights and still like to play the guitar. If you were a groovy chick, or are now a groovy hen, let's get together and listen to my eight-track tapes.

MEMORIES: I can usually remember Monday through Thursday. If you can remember Friday, Saturday and Sunday, let's put our two heads together.

MINT CONDITION: Male, 1932, high mileage, good condition, some hair, many new parts including hip, knee, cornea, valves. Isn't in running condition, but walks well.

And thus, I laughed and thought, 'Hoozah Grandparents Gothica - I miss you both'

*raises a glass of JD in salute*

ThankYou Very Fucking Much

*Apologies if you tuned into Part 2 of 'CSI - Bruxelles' but listen to this message from our sponsors and feel - something*

McDonalds is very good if you want to be a fat bastard.

Goth will be having a bad day - and it's not helped at all by listening to Linkin Park - fucking twats

"It's like a whirlwind inside of my head ..... it's right beneath my skin"

Thanks very much Chester, you bloody freak. I really don't appreciate people getting inside my head.

I'm confused enough already without you singing 'One step closer to the edge' , 'my pride is broken' or 'guilty by assosciation'. They are lyrics I wish that I'd written - words that express how I feel but didn't dare. For fucks sake, it's what I wanted to vocalize but then I would be in trouble.

You short arsed twat.

It's not that I don't appreciate your integrity but, STOP IT. Now I have to think. Gadzooks !! What if I don't want to think anymore?

Can I just not exist without having to pretend to be something I'm not?! Now, I will get castigated for being me. The myopic muppets will reign again. I will get blamed for things I didn't do, again.

People, in the widest sense of the word, wonder why I'm so fucked up. That will be on account of the fact that I think too much. I'm not an idiot - I just behave like one, on occassion.

I like to hope that people care about me, which apparently would be wrong. They don't - they want their own shit fuck ups to be more important than mine. Well - hoo fucking ray.

As Chester says "I tried so hard, but in the end it doesn't even matter"

I would like to say, something, but .... oh, what's the fucking point?

No-one is listening anyway.