Women make life complicated………. (But don’t tell them we love kinda them for it) :o)

I wrote this a while ago………. Took it out of an email I was writing at the time, and made it stand up on it’s own. Go on……… tell me I’m wrong. :o)

Women make it complicated

That’s the one thing that worries me about getting the love of my life………. women have a gift for making things real complicated……… for example, you fancy something to eat, and they start insisting you heat your beans in a saucepan, transfer them to a clean plate, add lettuce, cabbage, cucumber and stuff like that, and lord knows what else. Most of it has to be bloody opened / peeled / washed/ cracked / prised / sliced / diced / grated / mashed / tossed / whipped / stirred / folded / buttered / oiled/ fried/ boiled/ blanched/ grilled and heated in many other weird ways, and in several other saucepans, casserole dishes, you-name-it, too.

Then you gotta make up some gravy / sauces / dressings and things called ‘garnishes’; I ask you, what’s a bleddy garnish? All this makes a helluva mess, and so then you’ve gotta wipe up all the clutter, clean the damn chopping board(s) (just the one will never do!), and all the stuff you used to mutilate, sorry ‘prepare’ the food.

Even though you’ve been up to your elbows in soap and water for half the day, you have to wash your hands for the tenth time, get out knives / forks / spoons / chopsticks and other things you never knew existed before you met her, and lay the damn table, using a nice white Irish linen cloth. That’s the one that has to be washed every time you as much as look at it, and not to mention ironed as well afterwards.

I mean…… IRONING a table cloth??? Jees!

Then, because it’s now fast becoming a ‘romantic’ meal, when you thought it was just ‘fancy something to eat’ you gotta turn the telly off, find the candles, fix them in the holder, and light the soddin’ things. Bugger, burnt your fingers. Now you gotta run your hand under the cold tap, and suffer the indignity of being told you’re “such a baby” into the bargain, and not to make a fuss ‘cos it can’t hurt THAT much, (It bleddy well DID!) as she holds your hand under the tap with all the grip of a hairy-assed Sumo wrestler. Strength mysteriously absent when she didn’t have the strength to carry the four-tons of shopping she made you bloody buy yesterday, and on your day off too.

Then you gotta dry your hand in a clean towel, get told off for getting garage grease and stuff under your nails, then get a real bollicking for being vulgar, when you nuzzle up close to her scented long neck and suggest to her that dipping them in some fresh, warm, Pussy Juice would get it off it real easy. Her sensitivity is pretty rich considering she spent half of last night with her legs over your shoulders, shouting “FUCK ME!! FUCK ME!!” to the neighbours.

There were you, thinking that it was what you were doing all along, surprised and dismayed that she hadn’t noticed you were doing your bloody best! She shouted “DON’T STOP, DON’T STOP!”, so you’d tried to get a few more revs up, without falling out and missing a stroke, despite the cramp in your left calf and splitting a couple of toenails scrabbling for some grip with the other leg on the damn slippery black silk sheets. The ones she suggestively mentioned would be soooo sexy. The ones you knew bloody well were going to be trouble the second you looked at the price tag, as you coolly flourished the plastic to impress her with your New Man Spares No Expense style.

Anyway, by the time she’s got the Burneeze cream out, and struggled with the plasters that won’t stick because of the overzealous application of the cream plastered on your fingers, everything has gone all to pot, quite literally. The gravy’s gone all weird, the stuff you opened / peeled / washed/ cracked / prised / sliced / diced / grated / mashed / tossed / whipped / stirred / folded / buttered / oiled/ fried/ boiled/ blanched/ grilled and heated in many other weird ways, and in several other saucepans/ casserole dishes/ you-name-it, has gone all to hell too, and the candles have dripped wax all over the bloody Irish linen white thing you’d been forced to spread on the table.

She’s started to knock up something else, to replace the burnt stuff, and for sure-certain you can feel a good few more laps of kitchen-based domesticity coming up. You resign yourself, and start to scrape the burnt pans, after being told not to “just-stand-there-looking-at-it-if-you-hadn’t-made-all-that-fuss-and-been-more-careful-in-the-first-place-it-wouldn’t-have-burnt”. Your helpful suggestion that maybe if you could “sort-of-just-stir-it-all-together-and-see-what-it-tastes-like, babe”, meets with a disgusted “Don’t be stupid; you can’t do that!”.

“Actually you can”, you think to yourself, but know full well that such thoughts won’t overwhelm her powerful Girl-Logic software systems, and so you strategically keep the thought secreted well away from the Brain-to-Mouth short circuit, that has dropped you right in it so often before.
At long last, after a repeat of the whole performance, you finally sit down to eat. You find yourself thinking “What a bleddy price to pay for a regular shag”, and just in time shut the thought down in blind panic, only too aware of her sensitive telepathic and intuitive skills. The ones have seen right into your thoughts so many times in the past. HOW does she do that?
Then there’s trying to see what you’re doing in the soft, dimpsy candlelight, whilst attempting to look into her eyes romantically, and not spoil it by being a wuss, and wincing at the pain of the damn fork pressing into your burnt fingers. When you see how she is looking back at you, you realise, with the fixed grin that you desperately try to warm up, that lovemaking that night is going to call on every ounce of proficiency you have at your disposal.

Too late, she’s triggered your simple and hair-triggered Primary Man Circuits. The Member for Bathpool is stirring, albeit pretty half heartedly like mortally wounded old soldier making one last effort to rise up and salute the distant call of the Bugle; loyal to a fault, and willing to fling himself into the breech one last time for Honour and Valour. You find yourself wishing, not for the first time, that you’d avoided introducing the Ferret again that morning, close thing though it was, after climbing aboard twice last night. Doesn’t she realise the damn Well isn’t bottomless? “Not really” is the obvious answer, by that look of “You’re going to be a Lucky Boy tonight!” in her Make-Sure-He-Notices furtive glances at you.

Then she goes and reaches up and does that thing with her hair. The thing she does without knowing how it leaves you helpless, and at her mercy every single time. With an inward sigh of contented resignation you smile at her, knowing she’s always going to have her way without even trying.

Still, you remembered dreaming of one day meeting a gorgeous nymphomaniac just like her, but sometimes realise it’s resulted in life being much more complicated, and an awfully long way off the simple life you once enjoyed. For instance; Getting up out of the armchair when the adverts start, opening a tin of beans, shoving a spoon into the tin, and back to sit down again before the film kicks in again.

Food.

Done in a jiffy,………..and if you lick the spoon clean, absolutely no washing up.

Simple.

Quick.

No Wucking Forries! 🙂

© Kevin Udy.

Happier than God…………….. one day, hopefully :o)

I’ve been reading “Happier Than God” by Neale Donald Walsh………… it’s kinda a cross between another of his books “Conversations With God”, and “The Secret” by Rhonda Byrne.

It makes a lot of sense, despite being quite fantastic (As in ‘unbelievable’), but no more fantastic than any of the conventional religions. It sure supports what I know is happening to me right now…………. I’m in a deep web of negativity right now, and have been for a while to a greater of lesser degree, and I know it’s self-perpetuating, in that it is drawing in more negativity to feed on. ‘Things’ aren’t working out with pretty much anything at all, and I’m bringing it in on myself, but even knowing that, I seem (Please note……..mustn’t say ‘can’t’) to be unable to break out of it………. at the moment. When my father died back in ’91, I went through a extremely positive phase for something like six months or so, and was absolutely invincible, and I knew, and expected everything to go right, and you know what?

IT DID!!!! It was brilliant!

My Dad had just died, all hell broke loose in as much as my world was turned over…….. my five year relationship with my girlfriend fell apart from the strain of it all, my sister decided I was her enemy, because I then fell in love with her best friend along the way, I’d been busted for speeding by the police on the way down to comfort my Sister in Cornwall the evening I’d heard he had died, and was going to get a definite driving ban when it came to court.

Ok, you’re wondering………Two busts by two separate pursuit cars in different places along the dual carriageway, 120 on a curve, and 140mph up a steep hill, a police pursuit by two fast Rovers for eighteen miles and a road block in Lifton to catch me……. I didn’t know they were pursuing they were so far behind. Four minutes behind me, …I counted. Drive a fast car skilfully, with blue lights clearing the way, as hard as you can for four minutes, ands see how far you travel. That’s a LONG way behind. They were not happy bunnies! To top it all, 140mph was the fasted speed ever dealt with when it eventually came to court in Okehampton. The court was packed when my case came up, and it made the front page of the Western Morning News in two counties, Devon and Cornwall.

The bike, if you’re wondering, was a beautiful, and much loved, silver and red Kawasaki 900R.

The day My Father died was a terrible, terrible day, made all the worse by being busted in such a huge way.

So, y’see……….all sorts of stuff going on which should’ve had the depressive, opposite, effect on me, ………and yet I was flying high as a kite despite it all…….. not immediately, but very soon. Everything was all of a sudden working for me to make things happen, and to help me achieve what I was having to do.

Right down the line………. Everything I did went bang on the button, and it wasn’t as if it was an easy time either……… my sister was incapacitated with grief, everyone was supporting her, and I had to sort out my Father’s affairs completely alone, travelling to and fro from Taunton to Cornwall on all my days off for months. It was as hard as hell to do, and pretty much no one to advise me, let alone help. Clearing his big garage and workshop was a mammoth task alone, both emotionally and physically, but I was largely buoyed up by this strange positivism, and it was something I’ve never forgotten. Never forgotten, but equally I’ve never been able to replicate it again to anything like as much, or for so long a time.

I could move mountains, and I did too. :o)

Was that something to do with my Father ‘helping’ me from the afterlife?

Was it God working in my life?

Was it that I’d somehow tapped into positivity, and was reaping the rewards of a generous and benevolent Universe?

Dunno………. I kinda think the latter, but who knows? Maybe it all three????????

Anyway…….. back to the present.

“Happier Than God”, “Conversations With God”, and “The Secret” all enthuse about the laws of attraction, and a kind of cosmic ordering. What you focus on and what your heart desires, will come about. HTG and CWG teach that God is Life……. He is always with us, because he IS us. “The Secret” is more about cosmic ordering.

You need to read he books really, as I haven’t grasped it completely, nor finished the books, but I can say this………… I’ve had a week off on annual leave this week, and having started HTG this morning, and applied some of it by thanking God all day, on and off, but mostly on, I have had the best day so far. I even thanked god for the leak on the Harley cylinder head, because it will give me a chance to get out into the workshop again in order to repair it, and to feel the joy of having done so when I do. See, HTG says that things that seem to get worse, are a sigh that it’s working, because it lets you feel the upside when that eventually follows. An example he gives……… if you desired to be The Light, and there was no darkness, you wouldn’t know you were The Light, because you would be in the light anyway, so darkness would have to surround you first in order that you be aware that you had become The Light.

Gettit??? :o)))

Ok, but I did say it was ‘fantastic’, didn’t I? Cutting edge science is starting to nibble at fantastic concepts that are so far considered too whacky to even listen to. If you believe in any of the conventional religions, they are no less whacky. People are blowing themselves up. believing that seventy-two virgins are waiting to reward each and every one of them. Whacky as hell, BUT, whatever IS going on Out There is way beyond whacky. There is a concept that the whole universe as we know it is in fact a huge hologram, and nothing is any more real than a dream.

An illustration….. You dream you offer someone a cup of tea, and in the dream you give them one, and at the same time imagine to yourself that they enjoy it. So, in the dream, you actually give them the tea, and in your mind imagine them enjoying it, BUT……… it’s a dream, …………so the cup of tea is as imaginary as you imagining them enjoying it, but in the dream it was ‘real’.

So maybe everything we know is a dream, a fantasy, a hologram, whatever. Science has learned that nothing is in contact with anything else, because if you go small enough to sub-atomic level, there are huge gaps between all the particles making up anything, just as there are huge gaps between the planets………. Nothing touches anything else. Solids aren’t solid at all, they just manifest themselves as solid in our physical experience. If you touch something, you actually don’t tough it…….. not really, because if you could see to a fine enough degree, you would see a gap there. It’s all a matter of scale. We are trying to discover things way beyond our physical capability to prove, but is only the half of it is right, it is pretty fantastic……… all of it.

So, I do believe, and have done for a while now, that what we think, HOW we think, determines out lives completely. The trick is, is to manage your mind to the degree that you can turn things around from a negative perspective to a positive one. For some people it’s easy……….. they do that naturally, and I’ll bet my bottom dollar they are the ‘winners’ in life……… I as much that they are generally ‘happy’.

Me, I’m gonna turn this ship around if it kills me. I’ve been trying for a long time, but………. (No, Eddie says I mustn’t say ‘but’………. not in connection to negativity…….. I must say however)………… HOWEVER, it’s gonna change! :o)

If you’re having a shit time of things………. Read HTG, and CWG, with an open mind, a very open mind, and you don’t have to go to church every Sunday to make it work either if you’re not a religious person. If you are religious, I don’t think it will necessarily clash with what you already believe. I think it will reinforce what you believe.

It’s a win-win, yes? :o))))))

One last thing………… don’t for one second think I’m preaching here, or trying to sound like I have the answers. Couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m just reading some books, and some things are making a bit of sense, and I’m passing it on in the hope it might help someone else, that’s all.

And some things are changing my mood, so that has to be a good thing, and some proof that some techniques do work. Try saying ‘thank-you’ all day to ‘God’ whether you believe ‘he’ exists of not. Give thanks for even the bad stuff…..use your imagination as to how to do that, and see if it doesn’t brighten your day at least a little bit. I laughed to myself when I thought up a way of being thankful for the Harley cylinder-head oil leak.

Beat THAT for a turn around!!!!! :o))))))))))))))

And you know what? I dragged the old girl out, and had a good look at it, and it wasn’t as bad a leak as I thought. It leaks when you park it leaning over on the stand………. The oil ‘pools’ in the rear corner of the head, and drips through the gasket until it levels out. When you’re upright and riding it, it leaks very, very little. It still needs fixing fairly soon, and it’s still a pain to fix by the looks of it, ………….but not quite as bad as I thought.

Was that because I said “Thank-you”???

Who knows. :o)

K.xxx (x’s are for all you gurls out there!) :o)