Christmas memo

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director
TO: All Employees
RE: Christmas Party

I'm happy to inform you that the company Christmas Party will take place on December 23rd. starting at noon in the private function room at the Grill House. There will be a small cash bar and plenty of drinks! We'll have a small band playing traditional carols. ..feel free to sing along. And don't be surprised if our CEO shows up dressed as Santa Claus. A Christmas tree will be lit at 1.00pm. Exchange of gilts among employees can be done at that time, however, no gift should be over £5 to make the giving of gifts easy for everyone's pockets. This gathering is only for employees!

Merry Christmas to you and your family.

Patty.

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director.
TO: All Employees
RE: Holiday Party.

In no way was yesterday's memo intended to exclude our Jewish employees. We recognize that Hanukkah is an important holiday, which often coincides with Christmas, though unfortunately not this year.

However, from now on we're calling it our "Holiday Party". The same policy applies to any other employees who are not Christians. There will be no Christmas tree present. No Christmas carols sung. We will have other types of music for your enjoyment.

Happy now?

Happy Holidays to you and your family.

Patty.

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director.
TO: All Employees
RE: Holiday Party.

Regarding the note I received from a member of Alcoholics Anonymous requesting a non-drinking table... you didn't sign your name. I'm happy to accommodate this request, but if I put a sign on a table that reads "A.A. Only" you wouldn't be anonymous anymore. How am I supposed to handle this? Somebody?

Forget about the gifts exchange, no gifts exchange are allowed since the union members feel that £5 is too much money and executives believe £5 is a little mean.

NO GIFTS EXCHANGE WILL BE ALLOWED.

FROM: Patty Lewis, Human Resources Director
TO: All Employees
RE: Holiday Party

What a diverse group we are! I had no idea that December 20th begins the Muslim holy month of Ramadan, which forbids eating and drinking during daylight hours. There goes the party! Seriously, we can appreciate how a luncheon at this time of year does not accommodate our Muslim employees' beliefs.

Perhaps the Grill House can hold off on serving your meal until the end of the party - or else package everything for you to take it home in little foil doggy bags. Will that work? Meanwhile I've arranged for members of Weight Watchers to sit farthest from the dessert buffet and pregnant women will get the table closest to the restrooms. Gays are allowed to sit with each other. Lesbians do not have to sit with Gay men; each will have their own table.

Yes, there will be flower arrangements for the Gay men's table. To the person asking permission to cross dress, no cross-dressing allowed though. We will have booster seats for short people. Low-fat food will be available for those on a diet. We cannot control the salt used in the food. We suggest for those people with high blood pressure to taste first. There will be fresh fruit as dessert for Diabetics, the restaurant cannot supply "No Sugar" desserts. Sorry!

Did I miss anything?!?!?!

Patty.

FROM: Patty Lewis
TO: All Fucking Employees
RE: The Fucking Holiday Party

Vegetarian pricks. I've had it with you people!!! We're going to keep this party at the Grill House whether you like it nor not, so you can sit quietly at the table furthest from the "grill of death" as you so quaintly put it, and you'll get your fucking salad bar, including organic tomatoes. But you know tomatoes have feelings too. They scream when you slice them. I've heard them scream, I'm hearing them scream right NOW!! I hope you all have a rotten holiday!! Drive drunk and die.

The Bitch from HELL!!

FROM: Joan Bishop, Acting Human Resources Director
RE: Patty Lewis and Holiday Party

I'm sure I speak for all of us in wishing Patty Lewis a speedy recovery and I'll continue to forward your cards to her. In the meantime, management has decided to cancel our Holiday Party and give everyone the afternoon of the 23rd off with full pay.

Happy Holidays

Six Months In

Please accept my apologies for the lack of entries. I know quite a few people have got bored with this blogging malarkey – perhaps moving onto the world of Facebook – but I’ve simply been too busy with my relationship to find the time to post.

I always complained (well, to myself) that whenever my friends found themselves in a relationship I was left to my own devices and out in the cold. Now I can see just why that happened as both "P" and I have noticed that we’re not doing the things we did prior to meeting each other. Mind you, I’m not complaining because I’m enjoying every minute of it and we’ve both commented on just how fast the last six months have gone past.

Up until now I’d never been in a proper relationship during Christmas and with it rapidly approaching I can’t wait to dish out my carefully selected presents. There’s no stupid "gifts" for the kitchen or naughty underwear (although I’d relish the idea) but items which are for "P" and her alone. After carefully watching and listening to what she likes (fingers crossed) I hope she’ll be delighted. However, the only downside to this Christmas is that I won’t really be seeing her – "P" will be at her parents whilst I’ll be at my own.

Being Christmas and all, the next stage of our relationship is navigating the tricky office Christmas party. Apparently, there has been much interest in just who this mystery man "P" is bringing to the party. Naturally, I’ll be on my best behaviour but I’m sure I’ll be as nervous as hell (especially since, out of ten or twenty people, I’ll only know one person in the room). I’m sure she’ll feel nervous too but, equally, I’m sure she’ll be just as nervous when it comes to my office party too!

Search Engine Madness

I’ve never really considered how people found there way to this blog, but it’s fairly certain that an Internet search engine has played a major part.

Fortunately, for those people asking questions and seeking the same answers as myself, it looks like they may well have found their way to a place to share their anguish. On the other hand, judging by some of the keyword analysis, perhaps they are just plain weird:

1. Funny thing in a shower
2. Ugly fat women seeking men
3. Fun thing for you and mate
4. Soul mate and signals
5. Blogs on finding the perfect soul mate
6. Fate leads to finding a soulmate
7. Internet dating feminist fat ugly
8. Farm woman seeks
9. Woman seeking six
10. Funny smell in nose wash hair
11. Manhood shower
12. Best women seeking men response messages
13. Hopeless with dating
14. Kissing the void
15. Flat chested women seeking men

Can I Ask You a Question?

It had been a long day. We’d been out shopping, kept P’s son and friends happy, had a good laugh at a DVD and made love for the second time that day. I was just in the process of dozing off in bed when P turned to me and said "Can I ask you a question?"

My heart stopped – what could it be, was it something good or something bad? Her question was toned in a quizzical manner, so I suspected that I wasn’t about to be dumped – but never the less I was a little worried as to what was about to be said, so I replied "Sure" to which she continued with "Do you want children?"

I know she is on the pill, but my heart was ready to explode with the thought of what her next sentence was about to be - and she continued with "I mean, not just right now, but I’d really like to have another child before my bits start falling off".

I was kind of relieved that she hadn't just announced that she was pregnant, but then again, I think I would have been absolutely thrilled if she had.

Never the less, like the prized pratt I am, I replied "Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t". It was an honest response – and after recently catching some of "Supernanny" on television I was pretty much prepared to keep my fella in my pants just in case I manage to spawn some evil little swine that would trash the house at the drop of a hat. Mind you, after watching that programme, I’m pretty certain that most people would feel that way too.

But no sooner had I finished speaking that I realised what I’d said – and it wasn’t really a reply that would keep a blossoming relationship going. But as I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I do get quite broody at times (my Match.com profile said I wanted children – as did P’s) and it would melt my heart to be called "daddy" by my own flesh and blood.

As such, I thought a bit of rewording and clarification was required. "I certainly don’t dislike children" and added "and they seem to like me too", which is absolutely true. A friend commented a while back that I seem to have an aura that draws their shy child towards me, plus P’s son really likes me – and after my exhausting afternoon at an adventure park – as do his friends too. Even P acknowledges that I have a fan – which is much more than can be said about her previous boyfriend.

I finished with "It would be nice, but it would be scary too". Again, this is the truth. After all, you have to care for a screaming bundle that is wet at both ends and you simply can’t turn it off or hand it back to its parents - because that’s you! Fortunately, P agreed that it is scary, but with her already being such a good mother to her son I’m sure it would be OK.

Still, P has put her cards on the table and I didn’t flinch (well, too much). It’s also nice to know what her plans are for the next few years, but since we’ve only been going out for 3 months, it really is still too early to make such plans – after all, we don’t even live together – but there’s nothing wrong with considering what lays ahead or being worried by the commitment it entails.

Bank Holiday Treat

Up until I changed jobs I use to working away for fairly long periods. As such, I was use to living in hotels and became rather accustomed to my “living quarters” and, yes, even became a bit of a snob over what facilities the hotel offered. Needless to say, some were much better than others and I could probably write a book about the state of some of them.

Anyway, it made a rather nice change to go away for a nice and relaxing bank holiday weekend break with P to Cambridge - especially since neither of us had ever been.

It had been talked about for a while, so when I found a great offer on in Internet I went ahead and booked it. I offered to pay for it all, but with P being P she wanted to pay her way and she gave me half towards the cost – even if it wasn’t the quite the quaint B&B she’d suggested we looked for.

Arriving at the hotel I instantly knew that it was going to be a great hotel. The lobby was modern and clean, the staff attentive and the hotel location – on the banks of the river Cam and a mere short stroll from all of the historic sights – was perfect. I think P was a little nervous and, perhaps, she was not use to such decadence.

However, upon arriving at our deluxe room I’ve never seen someone become so excited – and it was wonderful just watching P dash about the room squealing with joy over the view of the river, the size of the bed and its many cushions, the fluffy dressing gowns, slippers, chocolates and waiting bottle of champagne. In fact, the room was perfect and could be ranked as one of the best I’ve ever stayed in – even more so since I was not alone.

It was the perfect weekend, with amazing weather, breathtaking sights, delicious food and wonderful company. P even managed to find a stunning dress in the sales. It truly was a weekend that I’ll never forget.

Snuggle Problems Solved

The Internet may well be the number one spot in the known universe for obtaining useless crap and, let’s face it, if it weren’t for all the SPAM and streaming video of naked women cavorting with various vegetables*, the Internet would run about a million times faster than it does at present.

Still, on the plus side, you would never have found that “hilarious” video of a man falling off a ladder whilst holding a chainsaw or those “authentic” pictures of a naked Paris Hilton doing strange things to a donkey. Needless to say, without them, your current existence would be extremely dull and unfulfilled.

But every now and again you do find a bit of an Internet gem.

Now that I’m in the fortunate position of being able to sleep with my girlfriend on a regular basis, the problem of getting my arm trapped under her whilst cuddling has become a bit of an issue. Whilst laying next to a human hot water bottle can be a problem, suffering from a trapped arm and the dreaded pins and needles is something to be feared by all men.

Fortunately, those fine people at VideoJug have once again come the rescue with this valuable guide to cuddling in bed:

VideoJug: How To Avoid Trapped Arm Whilst Cuddling In Bed

* Not that I search for such things. Well, not on purpose.

All By Myself…

Fortunately, loyal blog readers (or should that be the singular?) it’s not all bad news. You see, P has gone on holiday to Europe for a couple of weeks and left me with no one to cuddle (well, apart from the cat).

She did invite me, but it had pretty much been arranged before we met – plus my passport has just run out. Still, P will be seeing old friends and showing her son the sights and sounds of Europe – something I feel that they should do together without me in tow.

Although we’ve only being going out together for a couple of months I believe that this mini-separation will be a defining moment in our relationship - will she miss me and will I miss her? Well, judging by a number of her text messages from said continent she already is!

With regular weather updates, food consumption and sights seen, it’s truly delightful to know that she’s still thinking of me as much as I’m still thinking of her.

Just receiving a simple text message means so much to me – and I think this says so much about my previous relationships where I did all the chasing and texting, plus I’d be lucky to receive a text message out of the blue – let alone a reply. I can’t help but place “Free” and “Lunch” in the same sentence – but being with P is like a true breath of fresh air.

P really has managed to restore my faith in the opposite sex.

It's Finally Here!

It’s been nineteen years and nineteen seasons in the making. It’s been talked about, fought about, laughed about, announced, dismissed, cancelled and denied by just about everyone, but it’s finally here and I can’t wait. And for more than one reason too!

I am, of course, talking about the wonderful and yellow family Simpsons and, unless you’ve been on another planet for the past few years, you’ll be aware that they are about to make their movie debut – and in exciting 2-D no less.

Not only does it look like a great looking film – even if it was ninety minutes of Bart making farting noises I’d still go and see it – but this time I’ll have someone’s hand to hang on to when things get scary (or, more likely, P will be hanging on to me for dear life – and that will just be the trailers!)

So, in celebration of this wonderful and never to be repeated event (unless there's a sequel) here’s a link to the theatrical trailer. Unfortunately, as I can't get the flash movie to stop auto-starting I've removed the trailer so you'll have to go the movie site to watch the clips (sorry about that, but it was becoming rather annoying!)

Uncharted Territory

It was either by a carefully crafted plan, or a total accident, but I ended up meeting my girlfriend’s (I’m going to start calling her “P” from now on) parents at the weekend. In fact, after a slight mix up with the serving times at a local pub that we were due to lunch at – resulting in a pair of rumbling stomachs - we ended up having lunch with them.

Talk about being thrown in at the deep end with rocks in my pocket!

Although I was terrified that I’d drop something, break something, spill something or even say something totally stupid, my diplomatic work skills came into full play, turning on the charm offensive to full - with general observations and concerned agreement whenever the conversation turned to ill relatives. I even managed to successfully return serve when the father piped up about the state of pensions.

Considering I’ve never been in a “meet the parents” position in a relationship before, the feedback I’ve had back via P is good, with her parents saying that I was charming. Not only that, but P was just as impressed with how I handled any potential conversation banana skins.

And in yet more uncharted territory, I’ve also met P’s sister, whilst more and more friends are now being told about (or discovering) my existence. P even told me today “people are starting to get very curious about you” Blimey.

So, I appear to have past the parent test, but will I pass the all important friend test?

Grinning Like the Joker

I think people are starting to think I’m a little bit weird. They didn’t do it before, but I’m sure people in queues are starting to shuffle in the opposite direction to me. Why? Well, I simply can’t stop smiling and I actually can’t remember the last time I felt the way that I currently do.

It’s the little and simple things that are making me smile. Things such as receiving text messages unprompted and out of the blue (I’ve just had one as I type this), having your hand grabbed to be held, sitting on the sofa and having a head resting on a shoulder, the visible and audible squeal of delight as you pass an honest and innocent compliment and being naked and blissfully entwined under the covers.

I can’t believe I’ve come so far in such a short space of time. My past has seen my heart ripped from my chest and nailed to a fence post with previous girlfriends and Match.com exploits leaving me hopeful, but ultimately disappointed. Each and every dating failure – although, let’s face it, there weren’t that many dates on Match.com – left my willing heart bruised and damaged. I never let it show to my dates, but I became pretty insecure and was always ready for what was coming – even if I always tried to remain positive and willing to try.

Even now, laying on the bed, naked and warm together, I still get the occasional thought that she’s about to drop a bomb shell and tell me that’s she’s met someone else. However, as each day passes, those thoughts are slowly disappearing and I can finally stop worrying and enjoy our blooming relationship.

However, I’ve not been alone with those insecure thoughts, as my girlfriend divorced her husband after she caught him cheating, whilst her last boyfriend dumped her after a year and went back to his ex. I think that definitely qualifies her to be a little more cautious than me.

Still, I think our pasts have provided us with something to work on and aspire to something much better and happier. But one thing is for sure – no matter what the outcome is, I’m going to do it with a spring in my step and a smile on my face.

A Quick Update

Sorry for the lack of blog activity of late but something quite remarkable has happened in my life.

Have I won a new car? No, it’s better than that. Have I won the lottery? No, it’s better than that. I have, thanks to Match.com, finally got a girlfriend!

I’m still in a bit of a daze at the moment as, unlike my previous Match.com friends, the lady in question phones me, sends me text messages and actually gets quite excited when we’re due to meet. She is beautiful, intelligent and a jolly happy person to be around, and whenever I think of her, I can’t help but smile. It’s quite safe to say that I think we’re a perfect match!

Naturally, I still get worried about things, but then again I’m a bit of a worrier who worries when there’s nothing to worry about. Even after spending the night together, I’m still worried that it’s about to fall apart around my ears. Mind you, after all of the bad luck I’ve had in my life, I guess it’s going to take a while before I calm down, stop worrying and enjoy it all.

Anyway, must dash, I’m due to pick my girlfriend up and take her out for a meal (now, I never thought I’d be saying that on here!)

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Shower

I've really gone up market and highbrow this month and rather than the usual magazine tat I buy (and before you jump to any conclusions, no, they do not contain naked ladies in various poses) for a change I opted for a copy of GQ Magazine. That and the fact I had a voucher to get the latest copy for a mere £1 as apposed to the standard shelf price of £3.70

So far, it's been an interesting read. Once I'd managed to flip through the twenty or so pages of adverts, including the freeing - on to the floor - of hundreds of inserts for bank loans, aftershave and free samples of shampoo, I actually arrived at some proper content. It was the joke page.

So, in honour of said magazine, I feel I must share with you a rather funny observational joke that appeared – rather unsurprisingly – on their hallowed jokes page:

How to Shower Like a Woman

1. Take off clothes & place them sectioned in a laundry basket according to colour
2. Walk into the bathroom wearing dressing gown
3. If you see boyfriend along the way, cover up any exposed areas
4. Look at your physique in the mirror, make mental note to do more leg-lifts etc.
5. Get in the shower
6. Use face cloth, arm cloth, leg cloth, long loofah, wide loofah & pumice stone
7. Wash your hair once with cucumber & sage shampoo with 43 added vitamins
8. Condition you hair with grapefruit & mint-enhanced conditioner
9. Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub for ten minutes until red
10. Wash rest of body with ginger nut & Jaffa Cake body wash
11. Shave armpits & legs
12. Turn off shower
13. Sponge off all wet surfaces in shower
14. Spray mould spots with tile cleaner
15. Dry with towel the size of a small country
16. Wrap hair in super-absorbent towel
17. Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown & towel on head
18. If you see boyfriend along the way, cover up any exposed areas
19. Spend 40 minutes drying hair with a hand-held jet engine

How to Shower Like a Man

1. Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed & leave them in a pile
2. Walk naked into the bathroom
3. If you see girlfriend along the way, shake manhood & make a “woo-woo” sound
4. Admire physique in the mirror and the size of manhood. Scratch backside
5. Get in shower
6. Wash face
7. Wash armpits
8. Blow nose in hands & let the water rinse them off
9. Spend majority of time washing privates and surrounding area
10. Wash hair with stuff from the bottle nearest to hand
11. Make a shampoo Mohawk
12. Pee like a racehorse
13. Rinse off and get out of shower
14. Fail to notice water on the floor because the curtain was hanging out of the bath
15. Admire size of manhood in mirror again
16. Leave shower curtain open, wet mat on floor, light & fan on
17. Return to bedroom with towel around waist
18. If you pass girlfriend, pull off towel, shake manhood & make a “woo-woo” sound
19. Throw wet towel on bed
20. Run fingers through hair twice to dry it

You’re Making Me Feel Old

It’s always nice to receive a “wink” from someone on Match.com. I know it’s a bit of a kop out on their behalf, but it’s made all the better when their profile contains more than one sentence, has a profile picture - and a rather nice picture too. I know that’s being a little superficial, but I’m finally beginning to learn that in the cutthroat world of Internet dating you need to be more ruthless in your approach to such things.

Anyway, I’ve yet again spruced up my profile by rewording most of my overview sections and added and removed a few sentences from my main profile description. I’ve even added a few extras pictures too – including removing a couple of ropey looking ones. It appears to be working – for the moment at least – as my profile view counter is quite busy and I’ve received a few winks too.

One of the winks came for a rather attractive woman with a good profile, but I couldn't help noticing that she was two years younger than me, recently divorced and with two teenage children. Two teenage children, and younger than me!? I’m sure the music suddenly got louder and my arthritis started to kick in. There’s certainly no better way of telling you that you’re getting old by announcing you’ve got teenage children.

Whilst I have no issue with women already having children, I guess it can make a relationship difficult – especially with teenagers who decide that any argument can be settled with “you’re not my father”, but it also tends to mean that they don’t want to have any more. I don’t know if men are suppose to have such feelings, but I do get quite broody at times and I often think that it would be nice to have children of my own. Perhaps it’s my hormones trying one last desperate throw of the dice.

Still, it’s quite remarkable how even that thought has changed, and if you’d asked me a few years ago I would have laughed in your face at idea of ever wanting children. But that all changed when I was working away with a colleague who had young children of his own. One of his offspring was a shy little girl who’d hide from me and not speak to me at all. Then one day she suddenly came out of her shell and, for the next few months, chattered to me constantly. I actually got quite attached to her, but it was when she accidentally called me “daddy” that I got a lump in my throat and had to fight back a tear. It’s quite amazing that it was a small two-year that finally managed to melt my heart.

Unfortunately, I’m now coming to that point in my life where I’m starting to question that, at 37 years old, it’s now fairly unlikely to ever happen. It’s a pity really because I’ve been told by various people that I’d make a good father. Still, it’s amazing what doctors can do these days...

Painfully Floored

My body is like a temple – it’s old and falling apart. A good, and rather painful, example of this would be an event that happened in the middle of last night. It’s also something that should probably hasten my quest to find my soul mate.

You see, I was alone in bed – as usual – with my only company being a snoring cat at the end of the bed. I’m not really a very good sleeper and rarely get into a deep sleep, tending to be somewhere in the middle where I know I’m asleep but also aware of my surroundings. It was during one of these slumbering moments that I decided to get comfortable and stretch a little.

Now, for some odd reason, my legs occasionally suffer from cramp. I’ve still not pinpointed why – perhaps it’s from having too much or too little salt, or that I’d been down at the gym the day before, but my body decided that it was time to tell me just who was in charge of things. Perhaps it was a little miffed at not being asleep too.

So, when I did my little stretch, I “tweaked” something in my left calf muscle and, like turning up the volume on a radio, an excruciating pain appeared and got steadily worse. Naturally, this woke me up with a start and had me diving out of bed and hopping around the room in agony. This also managed to wake the cat up who then proceeded to demand to be fussed. From the outside it must have looked like some sort of comedy sketch.

However, it’s not really advisable to dive out of bed whilst in pain and still half asleep because your body tends to get very confused, and feeling dizzy and sick with a pain that simply won’t go away, it tends to take the easy way out and go for a simple “reboot” operation. Unfortunately, Mother Nature – bless her soul – didn’t really think this one through very well.

When I came around, the cramp in my calf muscle had fortunately gone – although my leg still felt very raw indeed – but I had now acquired a really deep and long scratch on my arm where it had caught the side of my desk as I collapsed in a big heap.

I guess I should be really thankful that it was only a scratch, but if it had been something more serious – such as a heavy blow to the head – I could have been laying there for days. After all, without a girlfriend to check whether I was OK – or ring for an ambulance for that matter – I could have been in a right old mess.

I’ve had this sort of cramp before, but this time it really frightened me. Perhaps it was a painful way of telling me not to give up.

Total Fruit Cakes

You really have wonder if the lunatics have finally taken over the asylum that is known as the United Kingdom.

Why? Well, for over fifteen years bakery owner Val Temple has been baking and selling jam and cream cakes in homage to Kermit the frogs nephew Robin – and calling her green frog topped cakes “Robin Tarts”. That was until good old Trading Standard came a calling.

You see, in the UK, the jack booted group known as Trading Standards are on hand to enforce legislation controlling the quantity, quality, price, description, and safety of most goods and services.

Naturally, this now includes plenty of crazy directives from our masters in Brussels (to which most other countries – except us – ignore). So it made perfect sense that they should go knocking at Val’s bakery door and demanding access to her cakes.

But in spite of having a green and sugary blob in the shape of a frog adorning the top of the cake, Trading Standards were concerned that the consumer might be confused into thinking that the cake actually contained robin meat – and that’s robin as in the red breasted garden bird variety. They even objected to her Miss Piggy cakes as they didn’t contain any pork.

The bonkers officials from Dorset County council have now forced Mrs. Temple to change the name of her cakes because they gave a “misleading impression of the cakes’ ingredients”.

Naturally, these over zealous idiots will now be moving onto their local branches of Tesco where they’ll discover other highly misleading products on sale. These include products such as Cottage Pie without pieces of cottage, Shepherd’s Pie without any shepherd, Rock Cakes without any rock and a Fisherman’s Pie lacking that distinct flavour of fisherman.

Chatterbox

So yet another exciting week in my life comes to a close, and along with it comes yet another failed dating attempt on Match.com.

As usual, everything started out with much promise – with someone I least expected to respond to my message surprising me by doing just that, whilst every one else I contacted ignored me. Slightly older than myself, and initially without a profile picture, we appeared to have much in common - with matching goals and honest aspirations on what we wanted out of Match.com.

So after a few emails she gave me her phone number but she was a tough cookie to get hold of. She did admit that she was busy at work at the moment and we had a number of missed calls – with me calling her to say “hello” only for her not to answer, phoning me back later only for me to then miss her return call too. Never the less, we sent a few text messages and finally managed to chat.

However, after following up our chat with a text to she if she fancied meeting up over the weekend she replied that there was “no spark” in the conversation and she was sorry, but didn’t want to bother. Still, I do find that I little odd as our e-mails didn’t suggest this, nor did I manage to get much of a word in during our conversion to put across anything negative!

She’s in sales and marketing and she was either extremely nervous or extremely confident. I expect the later because I’m sure I’ve just signed up to a new kitchen, a supply of disposable nappies and an encyclopaedia Britannica. And as hard as I tried to get what few sentences I could into the conversion, I’m sure she was trying to be the chatterbox champion 2007. And she couldn’t understand why she was single.

So, here I am again, back to square one with yet another challenge to find another five ladies to contact over the coming month. I thought that this Internet dating lark was going to be easier than more traditional methods of dating. Oh, how wrong I was.

Normal Service With Be Resumed Shortly

Groan. It’s come around to that time of year that I hate so much. No it’s not tax return time again, but the annual occurrence of my birthday.

The year 2007 sees me advance my presence on planet earth to 37 years and yet another step closer to that truly awful of birthdays – the big four-o. I’m already starting to get scared about that one as there’s still so much I want to do with my life before I’m rounded up and sent to the nursing home to wallow in my own filth and shout obscenities at imaginary people.

Although my quest for a soul mate remains painfully unfulfilled, my body is continuing to fall apart at an alarming rate. I’ve discovered yet more grey hairs – even my impressive facial stubble has started sprouting grey bits – and my nose hair appears to be growing faster than your average crop of bamboo.

I’m also pretty sure that the music is getting louder, the police are getting younger, the cardigans at Marks and Spencer are starting to look quite fashionable and Radio Four has started to broadcast some good plays in the evening.

However, all of this pales into insignificance when you consider that my Match.com profile is now reporting me as being the grand old age of 37 - making me even less attractive to the ladies in their early thirties than I apparently already am.

Right. You must excuse me – I need to go and put on my flame retardant suit. I have some candles on a birthday cake that need blowing out and they’ve already started to singe the wallpaper...

Me New Theef!

Well, I’ve had my new crowns fitted and I have to say that they are worth every penny of the rather large amount of money I’ve just parted with.

Even my dentist was impressed on how they looked, blending in perfectly with my other teeth and not at all obvious that they are porcelain crowns. The only minor annoying thing with them is that they are so smooth and unblemished that my tongue is constantly playing with them, plus they feel rather weird compared with the original teeth. Still, I’ll get use to them.

So with new nashers, hung like a donkey and six foot in height, the ladies aren’t going to know what’s hit them. Well, I guess two out of three can’t be too bad...

Nerves of Steel

I’ll tell you something about this Match.com lark – it certainly separates the men from the boys. You also need to have nerves of steel and a mighty determination not to have your hopes and dreams destroyed by the vicious jostling that goes on.

I usually only contact one person at a time on Match.com so that if they respond in a positive manner I can concentrate my efforts on the one person – plus I won’t get their names mixed up. I can only assume that the ladies don’t adhere to this rule – plus they can cherry pick from the many hundreds of blokes that must contact them.

So, breaking my own golden rule I decided to contact five people in one go. Mind you, there was another reason for this - I need to contact five people a month in order to qualify for the additional six months free membership if I don't succeed after the six-month subscription (and I fear I’m going to need them too!).

As usual, I spent an absolute age searching through the members in my area and finding five people of interest – two of them without pictures. So, I duly sent off some carefully crafted messages and then waited with crossed fingers for my inbox to be flooded with replies from the ladies in question.

Alas, I fell at the first fence with two of them – with no response received – whilst the other three did actually respond with a few brief sentences (experience has now told me that this is always a bad sign) wanting to know a bit more about me.

I felt pretty awkward talking to three people at once, but I needn’t have worried, as two out of three never bothered responding back to my replies. That left one person – and someone without a picture too - but by not having a picture it meant that rather than having pre-judged someone on their appearance, I could instead concentrate on their personality.

Fortunately, they offered to send some pictures – of which they are very nice – with the promise to email again later, sighting some computer problems, and supposedly using a friends PC until hers was fixed. However, with no reply or email after three days, and yet with activity on Match.com, it looks like I’ve failed that ultimate of judgement tests - the “friends test”.

Ordinarily, I’d be patient and wait – after all there’s always an explanation, but Match.com is increasingly hardening my attitude to such things and I fear I’m starting to lose my “nice guy” personality and outlook. However, I can’t help wondering whether this is actually going to be more help than hindrance. After all, nice guys always seem to finish last.

A Bit of Field Research

In a blog entry sometime back I bemoaned the fact that women’s profiles on Match.com tended to set a height requirement for someone much taller than themselves. A massive debate ensued (well, OK, four people offered their valuable input) and it was decided that women do indeed like their men to be much taller. This could be a bit of an issue for us shorter/average sized blokes out there.

Ordinarily, I tend to adhere to their height requirements and don’t bother contacting women where I'm not as tall as them. But when they are shorter than myself, and their profile strikes a but of an accord, I usually contact them. After all, you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t try out these sorts of things.

Still, it’s hard to tell whether my lack of height requirement has any real impact - especially as people of all heights and sizes tend to ignore me in equal measures – so, all in all, it’s not a very scientific investigation. Still, perhaps I could try and expand on this and pass myself off as a professor and obtain some research funding from some gullible institution. There certainly seems to be a lot of them about.

However, whilst out and about over the weekend I found myself walking behind a particularly beautiful lady with blonde hair (albeit out of a bottle) who also had a real peach of a bottom (sorry ladies, blokes do tend to notice these things). After nearly walking into a post, I then couldn’t help noticing the height of the bloke she was with. Not only was she well out of my league, but her heavily tattooed and rather scruffy looking partner (probably his “vintage” look) was nearly twice her height.

So, to further my research (and take my mind off her pert bottom) I decided to head for a local Costa coffee shop, grab a coffee and then sit in the window and watch the world go by. And it didn’t take long for my research to be proved – with the vast majority of hand holding couples wandering past the window consisting of a bloke who was always much taller than the woman. However, matters are made all the more worse by the simple matter of the more beautiful the woman, the taller (and more ugly) the bloke tended to be.

Going Anywhere Nice on Holiday?

I’m back from the dentist. It wasn’t at all traumatic – although the anaesthetic is still yet to wear off and I’ve been told that there may be some “mild discomfort” over the weekend. Eeep.

I started off by having two small injections that – and to the dentist’s credit – I didn’t feel a thing. That was my major worry over and done with and after a few minutes of sitting in the waiting room I soon felt like the Godfather or The Joker from Batman. However, once the drilling got underway I could still feel something, so out came the big guns.

Blimey, if I ever see a needle and syringe as big again it will probably be in use by a vet as he prepares to tranquilise an elephant. I also think he used enough anaesthetic to sedate an elephant because I’m still drooling like Professor Stephen Hawking at a beauty pageant and having trouble speaking without biting some part of my mouth.

So after much drilling, bashing, numerous x-rays and yucky impressions, I’m now equipped with a temporary set of crowns whilst my new ones are carefully crafted out of moon rock – or something similar. The dentist was also quite impressed with his own handy work too – a good sign if there ever was one.

Tsk. The things I go through in order to find my soulmate.

Mr. Pullum Will See You Now

Well, D-hour is rapidly approaching – and that’s D for drill.

Squeaky bottom syndrome approaches – although to be honest, I’m not really that scared. Even the thought of the various needles doesn’t bother me too much, although I can think of better things to do on my day off other than feeling a needle up the side of my nose. Still, I think I’ll stop thinking about the needle part now – just in case!

So, two hours of lying on my back in a rather uncomfortable chair with someone ferreting around in my mouth and holding a conversion that I can only reply with “Mmmph mmmmm swwwmmmmmmph” beckons. I wouldn’t mind so much – but the guy will understand what I’m saying!!

Time to go. Eeep.

Sore Thumb

I’m beginning to standout like a sore thumb at work with the dubious accolade of being the only single bloke in a company of over a hundred employees. This wonderful achievement was realised when the only other single bloke in the company left for pastures new.

Even the office weirdo has a girlfriend (and let’s face facts, every office has a resident weirdo – and in the world of IT you get more than your fair share). He keeps himself to himself, winces when you turn a light on, hardly says a word all week and has the oddest taste in music – when asked what his last CD purchase was he replied “Whale sounds” – and yet he’s in a serious relationship.

Given that I now have this rather sore thumb, I decided to spend an hour or so searching through Match.com looking for another collection of suitable ladies to contact.

However, rather interestingly, I couldn’t help noticing that most women are either teachers or work with children – even my last date worked as a teaching assistant. So why are there so many teachers on Match.com? Is there some sort of stigma attached to their career? Are they too busy to date?

Perhaps I should start hanging about outside the school gates looking for any suitable single ladies? Hmmm, on the other hand, that doesn’t sound like a particularly good idea...

Tag Me!

I haven't done one of these meme thingies before, although I like the name for it. So, in a new and exciting development to this blog, I’ve pinched this one from Chaucer's Bitch.

1. Pick Out A Scar You Have, And Explain How You Got It

I have a scar on my ear that I received from a barbed wire fence when I was a child. I was climbing through said fence when a friend let go and – ping – off came the top part of my ear. One pint of blood less later, a few dozen stitches and it was back on. Impressively, unless you look hard enough, you can’t really see the scar. As such, I don't think this is part of my "nice person" problem.

2. What Is On The Walls In Your Room?

Woodchip wallpaper, a Wallace and Gromit calendar (which I’ve just notice I’ve not turned over from March – is this unlucky?) and some real film cells from three blockbusters in presentation frames. Hopefully, they'll gain in value over the next few years - that and the other 1000 "limited" editions in the issue.

3. What Does Your Phone Look Like?

It’s a Motorola RAZR V3 – I think! Why don’t these darn things actually say what model number they are? It’s also on the blink. I think I’ve dropped it too much.

4. What Music Do You Listen To?

Just about everything – from classical to the latest chart music. However, I draw the line at country and western and rap music.

5. What Is Your Current Desktop Picture?

A picture of Scrat – the perpetual nut chasing squirrel character from the Ice Age computer animated films. If it's not too weird, I'd probably like a picture of my girlfriend (see 6 below as to why it's Scrat).

6. What Do You Want More Than Anything Right Now?

A girlfriend. But since that's currently looking pretty unachieveable at the moment, how about an Aston Martin DB9?

7. Do You Believe In Gay Marriage?

I personally don’t agree with it, but I’ll always respect the decision of any gay couples who choose to do so. In fact, I have a gay work colleague who has done just that and they are very happy.

8. What Time Were You Born?

10.30am – give or take five minutes.

9. Are Your Parents Still Together?

Yes.

10. What Are You Listening To?

Right now? I’m watching/listening to an episode of House M.D season two on DVD. Music wise, I’m listening to Nelly Furtado.

11. Do You Get Scared Of The Dark?

No, although I get more concerned about bumping into something and stubbing my toe.

12. The Last Person To Make You Cry?

I don’t remember a physical person making me cry, but the end of the Shawshank Redemption did make me shed a tear – but that wasn’t really crying.

13. What Is Your Favourite Cologne / Perfume?

I have some Burberry aftershave that is quite nice.

14. What Kind Of Hair/Eye Colour Do You Like On The Opposite Sex?

I’m not bothered – just as long as they’ve got some.

15. Do You Like Pain Killers?

I try to avoid them unless really necessary.

16. Are You Too Shy To Ask Someone Out?

A wee bit, but I’m getting better. I’d much prefer it if they asked me – but that’s kind of unheard of by women!

17. Fave Pizza Topping?

I quite like folded pizza with a bit of everything – but hold the anchovies.

18. If You Could Eat Anything Right Now, What Would It Be?

Actually nothing. I’m not hungry and have no desire to eat anything.

19. Who Was The Last Person You Made Mad?

‘Cos I’m such a nice person - I hope no one. I guess one of my bosses at my last job was a little upset when I handed in my notice though.

20. Is Anyone In Love With You?

Have you read my blog?!

On the Couch

I hardly slept a wink last night and it’s just typical of me. No sooner have I turned out the light, rather than turning my thoughts – or rather having no thoughts - to getting some sleep I end up thinking of something completely different. I guess the regular readers (of which there aren’t many) will have little trouble in guessing what was on my mind.

Now, I wasn’t feeling all morose or bitter about yet another dating failure, but I was searching through every neurone in my brain trying to figure out just why it happened. Again. Why I am just a "nice guy" and simply nothing else?

As with most of my previous meetings, everything seemed to look promising. My profile pictures must have passed some sort of mental filtering, my profile details must have raised some form of interest and our chats on the phone must of provided a further insight into my personality to gauge some form of interest and prompt the meeting. Surely each of my dates can’t have just been after a free lunch or trip to the cinema?

So, how can something so promising disappear down the toilet so quickly? My pictures and profile are the total and absolute truth. I’m only myself and no one else and I’m enough of a gentleman to say please and thank you, hold a door open for a someone and pass genuine complement on a person – so why the rejection? Am I being too nice?

I can only assume that my various profile photographs don't contain sufficient information to pass the thirty-second test. You know, the test that every woman does when first meeting someone. Time temporarily freezes whilst they picture you being the father of their children, what it would be like to kiss you and what you’d look like naked. Fail any of these and you’re pretty much a gonna.

I know that I’m not the most attractive bloke on the block, but I had hoped that I wasn’t the ugliest either. Perhaps I’ve been far too over confident with my looks, even though I’m broad shouldered and fairly muscular with good leg muscles. One person even thought I was a rugby player – albeit a fairly short one. Are my looks really that bad – even once my front tooth is corrected (which I’m finally having done this week). Is 5 foot 7 really too short?

Maybe it’s because I don’t own my own property – even though I own my own car and I’m completely debt free - but how many single people can afford to get on the property ladder in the UK these days? Is renting and/or sharing with friends really such a bad thing? Perhaps it’s more of an issue than I thought, but shouldn’t the person come before materialistic things - plus I’m not the only person on Match.com who is sharing.

So, any tips and ideas on how to help solve my predicament would be much appreciated.

Money, money, money…

A recent survey has revealed that men need to earn about £50,000 a year before women consider them to be wealthy and successful. However, one in ten women have even higher expectations – with a salary requirement in excess of £100,000 before they become impressed.

Men are a little less demanding – regarding a woman earning £42,000 to be wealthy and successful.

Also, forty-five per of women said that a healthy bank balance was their top priority when looking for a partner, whilst a mere twenty-two percent of men said the same thing. Women also expect men to have a large amount of money to fall back on, with expectations of around £24,000 in savings.

Again, the men were slightly less demanding – with their partner only needing to have £15,000 stashed away for a rainy day.

Sunday Telegram

Sometimes modern technology can be a right pain. Sure, there are always the good things – such as advances in medical treatments, faster computing power, more efficient use of the fuels we have around us and, more importantly, better and faster ways to communicate.

However, as ever, these advances can have the opposite effect.

Before the invention of e-mail and the SMS message, people had to either talk on the phone or send a letter. Modern technology has done away with such things and it’s so easy to do things without having to either meet in person or talk on the phone. As such, this morning I was greeted with the following text message on my phone:-

“I want to be honest with you. your (sic) a really genuine and nice guy, but I don’t think there will be any romance between you and me. I really hope you find the right person soon.”

As a result, yet again, I find myself right back at square one with yet another person commenting on how “nice” I am before disappearing off into the wilderness. However, although I’d previously mentioned that she was the woman of my dreams, I’m surprised I’m not more disappointed than I thought I’d be. Perhaps she wasn’t the girl of my dreams after all?

Still, even with a positive attitude to it all, I’d already registered the danger signs and part of me knew that this was to be the expected outcome. My inner voice (or "gut feeling" if you prefer – as “inner voice” sounds too weird!) kept telling me that those signs were there but, because of all that has happened on my previous Match.com exploits, I decided to ignore them and not give up hope. Perhaps the lesson to be learnt this time is that you should always trust your instincts.

Oh well, another telephone number has been deleted from my phone and memory and it's back to the cattle market for me...

Predicting the Weather

There’s a saying around these parts of "Red sky at night, shepherds delight. Red sky morning, sailors warning". And given this, I have the distinct feeling – no scratch that – make it fear, that the morning sky could be about to start looking a little red and stormy.

So why am I predicting clouds again? Perhaps it’s because I’m now so use to the Match.com scenario where you meet up with someone a few times, all appears to be going well and then the sky promptly falls in all around you.

However, in this instance it’s definitely a case of studying the seaweed, prodding the pine cone and considering your gut feelings, because I simply can’t decide which direction the wind is blowing - plus it’s made all the more worse when you think you may have finally found your soul mate.

Although there is a known method to the madness that is the weather forecast, there is still always an element of chance or the unknown. But in my case, I’m trying to avoid noting the usual hurricane signs and hoping for some clear sky ahead on the dating front. Whilst our meetings have, on the whole, been quite good, they haven’t really had time to set the world alight. I had hoped to change that on the next date, but it appears I’ve been blown off this weekend, and the next one too.

Instead, she’s going out with a friend and then her baby sitter isn’t available the week after that (I neglected to tell you that she has a young son – but that certainly isn’t an issue for me). I’ll always respect a persons independence – and responsibilities - and don’t expect them to be round me like a rash (nor me around them), but I can’t make my mind up whether she’s no longer interested or she’s simply seeing her friend because she went out with me the previous weekend.

I keep thinking that because she gave me her home phone number that she’s still interested, but then I think that the interest can wane if someone more interesting (or better looking) comes along. I’m now racking my brains trying to think up of a way of asking whether things are still OK between us without sounding like a prized, or paranoid, idiot and potentially upsetting the apple cart.

Kissing the Void

If you’re a bad kisser – or simply not even getting to kiss - than you can finally rejoice and poke fun at the super smoocher who has women trembling at the knees. However, it doesn’t mean you should be celebrating too much (that is, unless you work for a chocolate manufacturer) as a new survey has revealed that women prefer eating chocolate to kissing.

Along with large amounts of a new 60% cocoa dark chocolate from Cadbury, the survey was conducted by Dr. David Lewis on a number of couples in their 20s.

During the experiment, the willing collection of chocolate consuming lovers had their heart rates and brains monitored whilst they first melted chocolate in their mouths and then proceeded to kiss. I assume they wiped their mouths first!

The various flashing and beeping monitors then revealed that the chocolate caused a more intense and a much longer lasting buzz than kissing, and it even managed to double the volunteers heart rates. In many cases, the chocolate buzz lasted four times longer than the most passionate of kisses and the reaction was the same from both sexes.

With scientists announcing that they’ve created Frankenstein style sperm from human bone marrow, it appears that even our man kissing may need be added to that threatened list. Still, you’ll always remember you’re first kiss, but I bet you don’t remember you first piece of chocolate!

A Cautious Approach

So, over the weekend I went out on another date with my lady friend. It was nothing exciting – only to the cinema – but she seemed to enjoy herself, laughing at the comic goings on screen. We then went to a nearby pub for a drink and a bit of a chat.

However, it was all a little one sided and I found it a bit of a struggle to keep up the conversation. I don’t know whether she’s bored, nervous or simply just quiet, but it was certainly hard work. We were both tired and we eventually went our own ways so I asked whether she’d like to meet again – but next time somewhere more interesting and exciting. Happily, she agreed and before we went our separate ways I gave her a lingering, but simple, kiss on the lips.

It all sounds promising, but as I’ve said before, I’ve had many a false dawn and I just can’t help wondering why she isn’t as chatty as I’d expected her to be. Is her mind elsewhere? Is she nervous? Is she bored with me, or is she simply being herself?

Fingers crossed, she’s simply being herself...

After the Night Comes...

It appears that there’s some renewed interest regarding my dating exploits* so it would be ever so rude of me to keep you in suspense any longer with yet more postings of witty jokes, charming observations and rants about the design of the new twenty pound note. Nope, I’ll save all of those for another time.

So, cutting to the chase, and given my previous experiences, it’s still a little too early to tell - but it never the less looks promising. Still, it’s too soon to get those buntings out ready for a street party.

We met for lunch, she looked and acted like her profile described and her personality, values and mannerisms came across as being very like my own. In fact, she could have been me – albeit with some extra "lady bits". I suspect she was quite nervous, but then again, so was I, but it didn’t take too long for us both to relax – nor did she receive any phone calls "out of the blue" to see whether I was some sort of axe wielding nutter. Mind you, I’d already tried to put her at ease by suggesting that she pick somewhere she felt comfortable meeting in.

As the cold afternoon progressed the sun finally came out and the weather warmed up quite nicely indeed. After lunch I suggested we went elsewhere for some coffee and, half expecting her to decide to call it a day, she agreed. So, off we went for coffee with yet more nattering and, once we’d finished those, I suggested a bit of a walk. Again, much to my surprise, she agreed and we slowly wandered to a local park where we just sat in the sunshine chatting and admiring the view.

Naturally, the afternoon had to end at some point and when she decided she’d better be making tracks she allowed me to walk her to her car and give her a peck on the cheek. Although I already have her mobile number, just as I was about to wander off she again thanked me for the afternoon and offered me her home phone number too.

We’ve sent each other a few text messages over the weekend – only about the weather and seeing what we were up to – but I guess the big test will come this week when I ask whether she’d like to meet up again. I might even try ringing the home number too.

So, stay tuned for more updates as they occur…


* That would be one person then – but thanks for taking an interest!

As Nervous as a Turkey at Christmas

I’ve hardly any finger nails left and I’m sure I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight from the worry. In fact, I’m sure a turkey at Christmas would be much calmer than me at the moment. And the reason behind this? Well, I have a lunch date tomorrow with quite possibly the woman of my dreams. My job interview was a walk in the park compared to my current nerves and the flutters in my stomach.

I’ve had many a false dawn, and I’m not even going to tempt fate and say that I have a good or bad feelings about this, but all I’ll say is that it was completely unexpected. In fact, it goes to prove that you should always expect the unexpected as I very nearly didn’t contact her.

I’d already marked her as a “favourite” on Match.com, but because she was so attractive – with a sparkle in her eye and profile to make the heart flutter, I decided I that didn’t stand a chance. However, this was going against my “if you don’t ask questions, you don’t get answers” ethos, so at the end of last month I decided to drop her a line.

I didn’t hear anything for a few days – in fact I’d given up – when I received a message out of the blue. Before I opened the e-mail I’d already guessed its contents – the usual “thanks, but no thanks”, but far from it.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, for various reasons she gave me her phone number to text her and it was soon a case of “definitely like to meet”, “I can’t wait to meet you” and “when can we meet up?”. So after speaking to her today, I’m now even more nervous – and excited - than ever before. I guess I’m kind of shocked by it all too.

So, all I can do now is go with an open mind and be the only thing I can be – myself. Perhaps, with Easter nearly upon us, miracles really do happen.

Now That’s What I Call Advertising!

It was a day that chocolate lovers the world over will have only ever seen in their wildest dreams. Not even the likes of Homer Simpson will have seen such as site as this – an advertising hoarding that could be eaten.

It may have been a dentists, or one of our NHS health nazis ultimate nightmares but, boy, was Covent Garden the in place to be today. For in an amazing advertising stunt, those clever people at Thorntons built an edible hoarding made from 860lb of pure and unadulterated chocolate. And it was much appreciated by the slobbering shoppers - it was eaten in mere three belly aching hours.

The Easter creation, a world first in the land of chocolate, was made of 10 chocolate bunnies, 72 giant chocolate eggs and 128 chocolate slabs - each weighing a deliciously chunky 2kg. The hoarding took three months to plan (with no doubt a few chocolate "casualties" along the way) along with 300 hours for the team of 10 to build. It was also expected to last a week - so much for that plan eh?

Naturally, it was the children who took advantage of the free feast – although I’m sure some enterprising Londoner will now be selling large chunks of it on Ebay or their marketstall, but I’m certain that there’ll be a few irate mothers complaining that their offspring didn’t touch their dinner!

Let It All Hang Out

A recent survey of 3500 women has found that a third of women think that they are too fat to consider appearing naked in front of their partners. Even one in ten of the women interviewed said that they’d turn the light out before getting undressed in front of their partner.

Also, a quarter of the women said they’d never enter the bathroom with their other half (which, in a way, is a rather good thing considering some of the smells us blokes can make!). Mind you, it just wasn’t an issue undressing in front of their partner that made them get all worked up and worried. A whopping seventy-nine percent of women said that they worried about undressing and showering in front of other women – especially at the gym.

I guess this is kind of worrisome because all of these stick thin size zero models are having an affect on a woman’s self esteem and body image. So, ladies, let me reassure you that men do not – I repeat – do not like these size zero models. In fact, I’ve no idea where they get the idea that we do and if you were to flip through your average lads magazine, such as FHM, you won’t find any stick insects there.

So come on ladies, don’t be shy, your partner loves you for who you are, not what you look like. Mind you, for your own health and safety, I really do suggest you leave us and our paper alone in the bathroom...

Complements

In my continual, and increasingly desperate, search for my soul mate on Match.com – a search that can be both fun and soul destroying at the same time – along with messages I’ve received from various ladies, I’ve started to receive a different kind of response to my own messages.

Oddly enough, those messages openly offer a compliment on my well worded, amusing and interesting profile. But, rather unfortunately, that’s where the compliment ends as the ladies are usually responding with a short but sweet "thanks, but no thanks". I’ve also had a few unprompted messages from a Match.com lady or two – but alas they weren’t my cup of tea. I’m not being shallow here, but we all have to admit that there needs to be an initial spark from a profile and/or picture.

So, now armed with an apparently interesting profile, yet again, it looks like the old mug shots are letting me down. Trouble is, there’s only so much a bloke can do to his looks and perhaps I may just have to face up that I’m not as attractive as I thought (or hoped). Maybe, just maybe, I’ll just have to accept that I’m not dating material.

We're All Doomed

In case you needed further proof that the human race is doomed through stupidity, here are some actual instructions on consumer goods:

1. On Sears hairdryer: Do not use while sleeping
2. On a bag of Fritos: You could be a winner! No purchase necessary. Details inside
3. On a bar of Dial soap: Directions: Use like regular soap
4. On some Swanson frozen dinners: Serving suggestion: Defrost
5. On a hotel provided shower cap in a box: Fits one head
6. On Tesco's Tiramisu dessert : (printed on bottom of the box) Do not turn upside down
7. On Marks & Spencer Bread Pudding: Product will be hot after heating
8. On packaging for a Rowenta iron: Do not iron clothes on body
9. On Boot's Children's cough medicine: Do not drive car or operate machinery
10. On Nytol sleep aid: Warning: may cause drowsiness
11. On a Korean kitchen knife: Warning keep out of children
12. On a string of Chinese-made Christmas lights: For indoor or outdoor use only
13. On a Japanese food processor: Not to be used for the other use
14. On Sainsbury's peanuts: Warning: contains nuts
15. On an American Airlines packet of nuts: Instructions: open packet, eat nuts
16. On a Swedish chainsaw: Do not attempt to stop chain with your hands or genitals
17. On a childs superman costume: Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly

Fruits of Pure Evil

After eating a grapefruit, and pulling numerous faces and enduring endless shivers down my spine whilst consuming said fruit, it has become blatantly clear to me that not all of the fruits in the garden of Eden are as joyous to eat as others.

As a result I’ve compiled my top five most hated fruit:

1. The Durian Fruit Quite how this fruit is a renounced delicacy in Asia is beyond me. With an odour on par with a rotting corpse and flesh a texture somewhere between custard and chewing gum, quite how this fruit can be classed as the "king of fruits" in the likes of Malaysia and Thailand baffles me to this day. The stench is quite overpowering – even before the fruit is opened – and it is quite common for it to be banned in taxis, trains and even hotels. Eat a piece and the back taste remains for hours, plus your breath becomes so rancid that halitosis would be welcomed with opened arms.

2. The Pomegranate Yes, the flesh is extremely sticky and juicy, and some would say healthily refreshing so, but it’s the palaver of a job getting there that makes this fruit so annoying. Accidentally eat some of the extremely bitter husk and you pull a face like a baby filling its nappy, whilst if you can’t be bothered picking out every one of the millions of pips from the sweet red flesh, you end up crapping seeds for a week.

3. The Grapefruit Why-oh-why this evil fruit become a favourite starter course in Britain remains a mystery to this date. Simply stick a glazed cherry and a sprinkling of sugar on top and it becomes an instant dining delight for nearly a decade. Still, this was in the 1970s, whilst today it’s become a "health fruit". And by that, I assume they mean that you get to exercise your face by producing various contortions whilst trying to swallow the bitter fruit. Things are made even worse when you encounter a pip, leaving you struggling to remove it from your mouth which is still contorted from the bitter after taste of the previous piece of fruit.

4. The Mango I love mango, but it’s the mess I hate the most. In order to eat the blighter you first have to remove the skin and then try to extract the stone – which takes up the best part of 90% of the fruit. Naturally, you pay by the weight so you end up throwing away the majority of what you’ve just paid for. What’s left is slurpingly delicious, but by simply diving into the sweet beast you simply end up covered head to toe in sticky mango juice. Oh, and let’s not forget those hundreds of stringy bits stuck between your teeth for days.

5. The Apple These forbidden fruit aren’t anywhere near as bad as the fruits listed above but are more of a problem with taste, or more appropriately - the total lack of it. Over the years, many varieties of apples have been inter-bred - although not for the taste. Those lovely juicy and tasty apples of old have been replaced by varieties that simply last longer and look good on the shelf of the local supermarket conglomerate. All we’re now left with is a tasteless capsule of water surrounded by a pesticide coated skin.

A Secret American Love Affair

America. Ah, the land we love to hate and a place that we have so many stereotypical views on. First off, they are all too fat, have teeth that are far too perfect to be natural, the habit of interfering in countries they shouldn’t and being totally hopeless at designing cars.

Never mind bellies that have more folds of fat than a piece of origami, teeth so bright that they would dazzle a blind person and aircraft carriers loitering around the gulf like a group of angry teenagers, it’s those awful cars that we should be really complaining to Washington and the United Nations about.

For America appears to be the only nation on earth that can, and seems to on a rather regular basis, design such awful looking cars with growling 600 horse power V8 engines that do 7 miles to the gallon, only for them be out accelerated at the traffic lights by an asthmatic on a push bike. Still, I guess an ugly car that is about as aerodynamic as a brick towing a parachute is hardly going to help matters. Someone should really give them a lesson on British and Italian car designs.

But hang on there just a moment... call off the hounds as, by golly, haven’t those cheeky American car manufacturers done some extra homework and come up with something that is so desirable that I want to own one more than any other fancy European or Japanese car.

For, behold, the Chrysler 300C, is a car that oozes so much class and head turning road presence that the executives from the likes of BMW and Bentley should really be shaking in their over expensive leather boots as Chrysler have finally come up with a car to beat them at their own game.

I don’t even care that the 300C is totally unsuitable for the heavily fuel taxed UK with its 3.5 V6 engine that does (a suprisngly good) 25 miles to the gallon and takes up more space on the road than a small lorry, because it’s the best looking American car I’ve seen – ever. Period.

Unfortunately, unless Chrysler can come up with a new lease-lend agreement with the UK government, I’ll have to keep buying my weekly lotto ticket in the vain hope of being able to buy and run one. After all, like this Internet dating lark, you have to be in it to win it...

Wake Up and Smell the... Tea

There’s a crisis brewing (or should that be percolating) in coffee land, and it’s nothing to do with those fancy packets of Fair Trade coffee that the trendy set buy. You know, those little green packets that sell at a massive mark up in supermarkets where the Ethiopian coffee grower gets given a goat, the middle man gets a new holiday home in Hawaii and the supermarket makes an extra few million in profits.

Nope, it’s far worse than that – and Starbucks and Costa Coffee will surely be quaking in their chocolate muffin filled boots.

Scientists (yeap, it’s those friendly egg-heads again) at Bristol University are suggesting that the benefits of caffeine could have been exaggerated and that the caffeine found in tea and coffee may not actually boost your early morning alertness or even stave off that bought of sleepiness. Hmmm. Me thinks that there was a jar of coffee, a stop watch and a number of giggling students on a dare going on here.

Anyway, our boffins think that, just like cigarettes, people become dependant on the caffeine which, without an overnight dose of caffeine, results in mild withdrawal symptoms. The effect of that first cup of coffee is actually your body’s cravings being satisfied and if you’ve not drunk coffee for a few days (such as over the weekend) you do actually get a bit of a buzz from it.

And it gets worse too, as people suffering from high blood pressure (so that would be most of us then) should steer well clear of the tea and coffee. But as with all health revelations these days there’s always an opposite argument because tea and coffee also contain a wealth of health-boosting compounds and antioxidants. Still, you’re allowed the decaffeinated variants – but they just don’t feel or taste the same.

So, you’d better make mine a large cappuccino then.

Gnash and Grab

My life is complicated. I don’t know why it should be, but it always is. Nothing in it can be simple, easy or trouble free. My life always has to take the more expensive, winding, long and scenic route. If it decides to fly, it always turns left. In other words, it always has to cost me a pile of my hard earned money.

The latest saga is my recent trip to the dentist and my plan to finally have my chipped and slightly crooked front tooth sorted. Anyhow, before we get to the bad news, let’s get some good news out of the way as, as usual, the check up was passed with flying colours – with the dentist commenting to both me and the hygienist on how good and strong my gnashes are “for my age”. Cheeky bugger.

But, from this point on, this is where things start to get expensive.

After chatting to the dentist about my tooth it turns out that it’s a simple procedure – with a bit of root canal work to remove the nerve followed by a bit of bashing and chiselling ready for a nice new crown. Unfortunately, after showing me numerous pictures of other peoples teeth it was decided that doing just the one tooth wouldn’t look right at all – the size would look odd.

At first, I was a bit sceptical – suspecting some sort of ruse to relieve me of even more of my money – but the dentist was absolutely right and it would look obvious and ridiculous. It’s not the result I’m looking for – and I long for the ability to smile at woman without worrying about what they’d think about my chipped tooth. And what’s more, I trust his judgement.

So, one crown has now expanded into four and into a bill of £1500. Still, once done they’ll be some cracking looking teeth, plus he was generous enough to throw in the root canal work for free. Lucky me...

Evolution

It only seems like yesterday that we were all carrying around those heavy, and battery draining, personal cassette Walkman. We soon moved on to the marvel that was known as the Discman – a tricky machine that involved having to tip-toe around the place in case the CD jumped. Then came the MiniDisc (Erm, we can pretty much skip over that one) and finally the wonder of the IPod (and it’s many fruity derivatives and competitors).

But technological advances never sleep and that humble IPod is now capable of playing movies on a tiny screen (always a useful thing to have in order to achieve that all involving movie experience) as well as carrying around your entire collection of photographs to show any willing viewer.

As you can see, I’m fairly on the ball when it comes to all things techie and fiddly so I can only assume that technological advances have been made in many other areas in the past few years too. After all, just about everything these days is stored and played back digitally or attached to the Internet for some reason best known to the inventor.

Baring that in mind, I feel I should keep my knowledge of ladies and their clothing in tip-top condition – even more so since it’s hardly a “hands on” experience these days.

Tricky at the best of times, even to the most ambidextrous of men, the item of clothing known as the “bra” has flummoxed man throughout the modern age. So, when those clever people over at VideoJug released a video on how to remove said article, it seemed like a training video just too good to ignore.

Watch and enjoy (with tongue firmly placed in cheek...)


VideoJug: How To Undo Her Bra With One Hand