Saturday, July 08, 2006

Good news-bad news

Well the good news is when I just logged on the counter was 10010, the bad is no one commented when requested, which means maybe everyone's now embarrassed to admit reading the contentious venom I sometimes produce. I only requested comments the one time, and as the next will be 100,000 I thought my request was pretty well justified, but I can't force anyone.
I'm also incredibly bored, I've used up everything decent to do at home, just written a short article and besides writing this the other jobs to do are either boring or filthy (anyone with pets will understand). So my refuge is here as usual, and each time I see another single male they tell a very similar story to mine. Which leads me nicely to today's concept. Privacy.

As far as I'm concerned, unless something I reveal will be used against me, it's free for all. What the heck have I got to hide? Our biological needs are all the same, and outside that there's little cause for embarrassment. Of course we all get off on different things, and anyone who admits to the slightest sexual deviation can be victimised by the narrow minded arseholes who made and encouraged all the laws limiting our scope in the first place. But as my blog reflects my life and sex is up with the lottery wins (I don't actually play) then there's little chance of it getting into my blog even if it did happen. OK, it does sometimes but at a level I'd rather forget. Only one step above the soldier in the desert having sex with his camel. Sex with a hunchback, that's something new... Anyway, back to the point.

Blogs have broken down some incredible barriers of privacy previously known. People I read reveal more and more of their detailed life, and you know what? It turns out we're more alike than we realised. Put someone in a situation and they'll react to it. If you've got a limb tied up you'll have to manage with the others. And that applies to every option not currently open. It is a bit like being in a High Street but the shops closing at will. Some open longer than others, and some are like rare plants only opening for a day every ten years (ie my female successes). And the buggers don't even have a timetable. The breaks come and go at random and if you're in the right place at the right time you may get what you need.
I've already said I actually like it if people write about me (see Oscar Wilde for agreement) as long as they tell the truth. So I apply that to writing about others, and as long as they can't be identified I am the same as every other non-fiction writer, my favourite being Liz Jones who has slagged off her husband every week in the Mail on Sunday and amazingly is still married to him.

She sets the standard for me currently, though I reckon it would be hard to raise higher as she leaves nothing out. OK, she didn't explain whether her sex included cunnilingus or not, but I reckon if someone asked would include it in future, as I would to her (literally that is). So what nasties about myself can I reveal today?

One is a typical phobic reaction. I have simple accounts to do, which for a while were done at home on a second hard drive. Now the work is the easiest on earth, but for whatever reason I hate going into an office to do it. Just me, but that's my nature. I know it's not an unusual sort of reaction either, and little I do can change it, but I'm just sharing it here.
Next. Did you know how many diverse erogenous zones women have that they are usually aware of and men not? Well as an obsessive I have made it my business to find them out, and hear such cack from professionals who get it wrong in the help pages in the papers. I'll be a sod as no one left a comment when asked and let you find out the main ones for yourself as a punishment, see, you have to come half way at times.
I have a new list of emails sent that await unlikely replies, as well as the woman I met last week. I saw someone on TV who may be related to the second best (equal) looking female I ever met, though she was that young (as was I) she may well have changed drastically since. But at the time she was the best. One odd thing is without looking all four of the best looking women I met were Jewish like me. I have no preference for Jewish women, preferring Asian or Scandinavian types (the two extremes) but in fact the top have been both from within my own gene pool and fairly similar to each other. See what comes out when you start opening the gates of revelation?

Sarah with the nose won on her personality, fatally marred by her judgemental streak, and would have passed my test as I only need someone who is 'good enough', not the best (since I was about 3o). And really the ones with the best looks rarely have the personality and vice versa, in fact I can only think of one offhand and we could be married now had her mother liked me. She felt exactly the same about me as I did her, and that was 31 years ago. It can happen to me as well, but it wasn't allowed to. Since her the Farnborough connection was the non-Jewish equivalent and this time I blew it as at 24 the minuses outweighed the plusses only known with maturity. That was Christine (if you get a shiksa, get a proster shiksa- translate that yourself!). She had carried a torch for me for 10 years and I dropped her twice, once without even any competition. So of course I did dig a few spadefuls of earth from my own grave, and discovered that she was my second and possibly last chance. Sarah had the third possible chance for me, and this time like every other it was her own choice not mine. There was also Aviva, but she isn't a certainty as I'll never know if I stood a chance with her or not as she emigrated after our first date (no connection). Woody Allen couldn't write it better, this is all real. I was mad about two Avivas in a row, both 21 and Jewish, nothing like the other 4, fair hair and very Polish looking rather than Arabic. Two of the best were fair skinned but all had dark hair. But the first Aviva had the brains and the personality and the looks, she just wasn't in the same country for more than 5 days once I met her.

I'd better stop now before I run out of paper. I'm more likely to get comments asking what erogenous zones I mean, but if you can't say hello just to be nice you won't get anything out of me!


Anonymous said...

hello Kingsbury.

i'm still looking for potheads, still looking for pot; you're still looking for a woman...

i would think the odds are more in your favour than mine since there's more women than potheads in the UK...

fucken hell...

another saturday night without weed.


David said...

Not that I would encourage you, but you should come up this part of the world... Enough said ;)