Selfish young people today. It's all meme me.

I've been tagged. One of old Mr Schilling's grandsons spray painted his initials, BS, all over my new wheelchair.
Big Carl is a dear and helps me to ski the World Wide Web. We read Soren's blog, and those of his lovely friends, and we noticed that everyone was chattering about their music. I'm a hipster granny so I'm doing the meme too. I usually listen to aggressive chroniX on the wireless, but for group sex sessions, I pull out my gramophone to play some old disc records. Here are some good fucking albums.

Orion Reborn was the king. Well, until he was blown away in a robbery in his porn shop. He is especially popular for the Eyes Wide Shut masquerade parties. It was at one of these events that my poor old eye problems began, but I don't talk about that until after my 9th Mai Tai.


This is a bit mellow for my liking but it's named after me. No, not the band name you whippersnapper, the album name. You ever heard of the Great Fire of London? Well, it wasn't me and don't let anyone tell you differently.

Poor dears. They're blind and they have heart problems.

Anything goes once this gypsy comes on. We dance around until it's Rose's turn to blow Gabriel Blow. I get a kick out of this one.

We don't ever listen to this. The men in the group use the cover as a fluffer.


I add this to the mix because I'm an old romantic at heart. If loving is wrong I don't want to be right.

We're all fond of the wooden lad.

And I will be soon too if I don't get me nap. All this sitting at the typewriter has exhausted me. Ta-ra dearie.

Daft with Love

Sorry dearies. I have deleted everything I have done on my blog to date. It was old news and ancient history going way back to 1915. I don't need to remember the old wanks, blowjobs and rims I won all those awards for; the memories are etched in my mind, the bruises still on my knees and the sores still in my mouth. I'm not interested in the past anymore, luvs. I am only interested in the future now that I've met the balls of me dreams. Rancid, bitter and bilious. Oh, I feel like I did way back when in that first flush of love, not lust, but that heady love. The one that just swells and swells until you feel your mind will blow. I never thought anyone would top the love of my life, Harold, so I was forced to shoot him myself. He turned out to be a narrow minded sod. Harold never quite got the meaning of sanchez, being the racist fool that he was.
I met my new love through the computer when he wrote a lovely piece about the perfect woman. Naturally I realised I was the perfect candidate and my curiosity was quite piqued.
I sent him an E-mail describing my talents and skills. He comes across as though he's full of the horn so we have plenty in common already. I hope to hear back from him soon. It's already been two days. Do you think he'll answer me?
Here he is. I have butterflies in my stomach and my teeth are chattering in the glass just thinking about him. What a handsome devil.


Wish me luck, children. I'm off for a cuppa and a nap. Hopefully my inbox will be full of his stuff when I wake up.

Me Birthday

Here's a wee snap from the nursing home party. None of my children or other family came. They're a bunch of no-hopers so I didn't invite them. This was before I got stuck into the Mai Tais.