who what where when and why the fuck ..... answers on a postcard please

Well here we are again . Another month another blog . Felt i should write something although i'm not sure what to say or where to start.
Ok so the music has gone on i am now ignoring the world for a moment. When i say the world what i mean is i can't write this when there are people talking to me about other things that don't belong here in my mind. After all this blog is for my thoughts. So rambling aside and lets get this done.
I've been doing a whole lot of thinking and not a whole lot of doing. i have lost my edge. i checked under the bed, down the side of the sofa. The odd missing poster went up and was quickly blown down again. Sometimes life gets in the way of well everything . And i'm rambling again because i dont know where this is going and what it will achieve if anything.
I remember a year ago what i was like. I cared less about what i thought and just said what was on my mine. Now i seem to take everyone else's feelings into account and sit on my hands. I am conscious of the fact that i have let people down that matter while pandering to the ones that only want me around when i can do something for them. i should really learn shouldnt i well at my age blah blah blah and all that. i have lost myself  maybe i just fell down a big hole. any personality i had is lost in a man trap and now i'm just horribly boring .
Mid life crisis anyone ?
maybe i should just have my nipples pierced and a big tattoo of bollocks in block capitals across my shoulder blades and maybe shave my head and have done with it.
Oh i could give up ok it sounds like i am , but i can't. after all i am the glue that keeps pants palace together . That's right just call me prit stick trust me i have been called worse. so on wards it is. i will valiantly look for my personality, my wit, my creativity amongst the washing and the ironing pile. Maybe it's hiding with the dust bunnies or at the bottom of the freezer with the frozen peas. If anyone finds it before i do it will probably tell you exactly what it thinks make you laugh and then swear a bit. if it does all of that it's mine and i would like it back once you've had your fun with it. Being prit stick isn't much fun without it .

a little spam bot poem i think we can all relate to

Hello little spam bot,
I do not want your things,
Your penis pumps,
Your plumbing tools,
Or your nipple rings.
I will not click your little links,
I am a hack free zone.
So to my little spam bot friends,
Go find another home.

this thing they call insomnia

So when all normal people with normal sleeping patterns are erm well sleeping, i am awake. It's nearly five in the morning and tonight i have met with my old friend insomnia. A chance encounter, sometimes i go weeks without the pleasure of her company but tonight she felt the need to visit me.
I was tired and achy when i dragged my body to bed. That was four hours ago. For the first hour i tried to get comfortable. I may have even drifted off to sleep for about twenty minutes before i was woken again by twitching legs. So here i am. Stupid thing is half an hour ago i was sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark with my eyes closed thinking yes i am now tired enough to go back to sleep. Then as soon as i lay my little self down again PING my brain woke up.
It ran through all the things i have to do tomorrow. Then it went from that to all the unpaid bills that will need paying and to the fact that i badly need a haircut but cant afford one. Then it did the all time classic insomnia trick of running through all the conversations that you should have had with people but never did.. Ok that was it . Do i lay here with sleeping man beside me, one leg out from under the duvet the other leg doing the Irish jig ? or do i say sod this and get up? I got up, first making sure said man was very asleep. So now for the rest of the night till dawn breaks i will enjoy the silence of the downstairs punctuated by the neighbor who has been banned from smoking inside his house and now feels the need to sit and smoke and cough on his front door step and the hamster on its wheel. I will also be drinking coffee and feeling grumpy and wanting to kick something.
But that is better than laying in bed beside sleeping person and watching the ceiling while your legs go mad and your brain does somersaults

until next time.

the pants have left the building..

techno bloomers

Computers, the internet, printers anti viral stuff. What do all these things have in common ? I don't understand any of them. They aren't fast enough , you find ourself having to tap angrily at the same button a hundred times before it decides what it is you wanted it to do in the first place. They never work the way i want them to.
There is a rule of thumb in Pant's Palace if Pants says it's broken it is simple as that. It won't work therefore it is obviously Wanky and invented by a monkey called Malcolm who was taking a break from poo slinging at the local zoo.
Today's technical failings are as follows.
The printer that first of all wouldn't print and then spent the next ten minutes printing blank paper while the entire Amazon rain forest wept. This is the same printer that likes staying on all the time. It won't turn off. It's as if it's afraid to miss something. So little printer when I actually want to print something and I lovingly put paper into your compartment and I then excitedly press the print thingy on my word do dab, it would be lovely if you don't sit there and tell me that you have no paper. I put half a damn tree into you. That isn't exactly no paper that's what you call over and above the amount needed to print out eight lovingly typed out pages.
I hovered as sir bent over and mumbled at it for a while today. I did contemplate going into the garden for a cigarette while he fixed it but then that wouldn't have been very supportive so i didn't. It was the longest ten minutes of my entire life wondering if it was going to print out more than blank paper. Was it using invisible ink just to piss me off? They know you see . These things know when you don't like them and they make you suffer for it. But it did work things got printed and all was well with the world once again.

That is until tonight when my virus thing needed updating.
The updating itself isn't too much of an issue. I have managed to do that myself ( shocking I know ) on a couple of occasions. It gets more interesting when sir helps me do anything techy. He knows computers you see. His mind boggles at my complete lack of knowledge about anything remotely computer like. He has tried to explain the inner workings of my comp before , thing is what usually happens is I refuse point blank to listen. So when he tried to explain to me about my aunties virus using words like flanging, filching, and fishing in the web well it was always going to be a lost cause really.
Then I find out that filching has NOTHING to do with the internet at all. it involves bumholes and liquid of a high salt content ( I also put my fingers in my ears and la la la'd to that to )
As for being accused of surfing the web well that's just daft isn't it. I use a tiny amount of what i could do. |I blog ( obviously ) use twitter and that's about it. I'm not about to jump into the internet seat a surf board in my hands and arm bands on shouting surfer dude related things am i ? I don't even use the local swimming pool for gods sake.
I did explain this to sir. He did what he usually does, rolled his eyes smiled and said,
"And that's why i love you ."
Then he went to shoot things . I haven't sen him since.

So todays lesson.

It won't work therefore it is fucked.

and thus the pants have spoken.

realistic parenting the horrible truth pants style

So the fluffy bunny adverts would have us believe that being a parent is all roses and small naked babies wrapped in poofy looking towels , toddlers are always smiling and playing , older kids get messy but then they are all cheeky scamps so that's all ok.

Anyone who thinks parenthood is even remotely like that is deranged, childless and last seen rocking in a corner dribbling. Allow me to give you the pants eye view of parenting. The abridged version.

Babies.
So hours of labor, nine months of not being able to see your ankles, fit into anything remotely looking like clothing and not a floral bin bag and puking till your eye balls pop and you have a small screaming red faced drain on your sanity.
the first few months it's a round of.
Are they breathing ?
Why are they crying?
Are they too hot? Too cold ? Hungry ect ect ect.
You are left drowning in dirty nappies, covered in projectile vomit that smells strangely milky and deafened by the hours of screaming. You read all the books ( well i didnt ) You listen to all the well intentioned advice ( nope didnt do that either ) and your tired. Now by tired i don't mean ooo i think i'll just have forty winks tired i meant tired to the brink of dribbling insanity tired.

It's not all bad though.At least they haven't started moving. You can leave them in one place and know that when you come back if you haven't fallen asleep in your soup or the washing up, they will still be there.
But babies become toddlers.
They move. They put their fingers in plug sockets . The smell of their poo takes on a whole new eyeball melting edge as they discover all the foods that you eat. When they aren't throwing the food around the room, feeding it to the dog or smearing it over the walls it's coming out of the other end. Sometimes it leaves you wondering how did something so large come from someone so small.
The best thing about this is when they have found that they can move about , they don't like staying still. Nappy changes become like an endurance test. First take your child. Now pin child to floor and strip offending area, trying not to throw up at the smell. Note to self take off socks before foot treads into open soiled poo filled nappy ( been there ). How many of you have at this point begun to loose the will to live and found yourself singing to the child what your doing ? Da dee da dee da now some cream on your bum dear la la la . Yes anything to stop the screaming midget from trying to roll over before they are cleaned dressed and sorted.
Then there are the food fad's . The children that only eat certain things. The tantrums, the children that don't sleep, and the dreaded potty training. potty training deserves it's own blog . It's awful , it's messy, the amount of washing triples, no room in the house is safe and it seems to take forever.

There is one good thing about having a small child they look up to you. Most of the time between the ages of well two and ten they seem to do what you tell them. They don't answer back that often and they seek your approval on most things. If you say jump they mumble a bit but they jump in the end . I find a death stare usual helps . The kind of stare that says i can chop you up and fit you into the oven if you don't do what i say. Starting a rumor about the child that didn't do what they were told and were never seen again seems to help to.
Now we have puberty. Your house becomes a war zone. It's house of the rising hormone. Your every word is now challenged. Nothing you do is cool anymore. Even the word cool isn't well cool. This is the time when boundaries are challenged , when children seem to be at their most expensive. They don't go to bed. they moan about how embarrassing you are. They seem to think that every time you bend over money magically appears from your rectum. They spend forever in the bathroom or point blank refuse to wash all together. They don't listen to music anymore. It's noise and it's played loudly. You find yourself doing the one thing you would never ever do . You  become your own parent the person that you swore to yourself you would never turn into. You tell yourself that you were never this badly behaved when you were your children's age when in fact you were probably worse.

Does this ever end ?
Well the worrying about them never does. You'll always be embarrassing and horribly uncool . But you'll also always be the one person that has been there. You mopped up the sick. You were the one knee deep in poo. You were the one that spent time smeared in food. You went to every parent teacher meeting at school. You always told them that you believed in them and that they would succeed in whatever they wanted to do.
That's why even though it's the hardest thing in the world to do being a parent is the one thing i am glad that i have done poo and all.

And so the pants have spoken.

a little opinion is a dangerous thing in twitter land

okay enough is enough and right now 140 characters isn't going to cut it so it's blog head on then for these pants.
tonights sermon OPINIONS .

dangerous little things these that seem to fall into three categories.

Number one.

The well informed, well thought out, well spoken ones. These are the ones from people who think before they word anything. They consider not only their own experiences but maybe the feeling of those who either listen or read them. These are opinions that i quite like. They seem to come from well rounded people, tolerant folks and in these unsettled times a little tolerance is a good thing.

Number two.

Opinions set out in joke form. Okay some of these really should come with a bit of a health warning. If they aren't funny you tend to find yourself bum clenching and sucking your teeth. If they are funny you find yourself laughing and then feeling a tad guilty because you found something funny that shouldn't have been. Either way dangerous when in the wrong hands and sometimes hurtful when read by the wrong people.

Number three.

The worst kind of opinion. Either they have been badly thought out without the knowledge of the full situation or they come from people who have simply run out of patience, compassion or any kind of feeling for the people involved. Sometimes these opinions are understandable. Most of the time though they are not. They are badly constructed and meant only to hurt others. They start arguments. They end friendships. These opinions are the ones that should be quietly thought of in your own head and never ever voiced.

Tonight i have seen all three of these types being used. Sometimes i have understood why. On a few occasions i have wanted to lift my cheeks and free my hands and reply but then thought better of it.
So i guess i'm saying that the bottom line is this, it's ok to think the way you do. we all have different experiences of life and how it has treated us. What isn't right is how your opinion effects other people around you who either listen to it or in my case read it. It's never a good thing to see anyone fall out with anyone else. Maybe i'm taking this way too seriously but it's who i am .

There is an old saying that goes, " If you can't think of anything good to say don't say anything."

and thus that pants have spoken.

a not so sentimental look at relationships

seeing as the last time I blogged I produced a poem about a poo, I thought that this time I would be maybe slightly more sensible.

The last few months at Pant's Palace have seen a good few changes. Instead of just a fluffy one and me we now have the resident tea bitch and a septic cat called fleabe ( well that's what i call her ).So with that in mind here's my skeptical account of relationships .

Here's how it starts. You have the first contact mine was on another website. An old flame messaged me complete bolt out of the blue. We messaged on and off for a while and then exchanged numbers. This is the slippery slope. You know that when you have numbers the inevitable texting happens and it did. Then the inevitable phone call that lasted a whole eight hours. Pretty much a nights sleep was lost catching up. Small wonder the phone didn't melt. I think it's a bit different when you have known each other in the past, you have the memories of those distant times. The old school days and a vague memory of how they looked back then. Then there is the first meeting . Have they changed beyond all recognition ? Have you changed ? maybe one of you has grown two heads ? Lost a limb? put on a pound or six million perhaps ? Is this actually a good idea after all ? Turns out it was like stepping back in time . Like looking at the face you remembered just with a few added wrinkles and grey bits ( his not mine ). After that night he never really left. Well just briefly to get clothes, his cat and his computer.

So here comes the skeptical part.

First few weeks they are on their best kind of behavior. You get used to the routine of them getting up before you, making you tea in bed, spoiling you watching you as if you were the most remarkable human being that ever landed. It never lasts though.
They say familiarity breeds contempt well in this house it breeds flatulence and means that you end up having to make your own tea again. They stop apologizing for cracking their knuckles. In fact if I wasn't mistaken I would think he was a transformer sometimes. Little things that don't belong to you start to arrive. So far we have my own personal favorites the box of wire and now the empty bottle collection. The food bill has gone up even though annoyingly he has lost weight and i have gained it in epic proportions. Then there is the washing pile. We wont even go there.
You have to get used to not just thinking about yourself and as i am a selfish horror that hasn't been easy to do. I like my space, my own thinking time. I'm still getting used to juggling that and everything else.

Saying all of that it has it's upside. You know the tea bitch is a keeper when you do an epic fart and he laughs without going green and falling over. He still thinks that me poking him playfully in the ribs when he least expects it is cute and he laughs at my insults.

i may have lost a bit of my ranting edge in the virtual world but in the real world i'm on fire and i don't care any more what people think of me. I can be annoying, sweary, demanding, bad tempered and i am all of those things in spades and to the tea bitch it's water off a ducks back.

so things at Pant's Palace may have changed and i know that i have but so far the change is a good one.

so my final thought on this .

It's not all about the hearts and flowers crap. It's about laughing at the stupid stuff. Giggling at farts , arguing about whose turn it is to make the tea ( his usually ) and generally taking the almighty piss out of each other. You get that right your onto a winner.

And so the Pants have spoken.