Getting in touch with your inner Tranny

The opening of the Rocky Horror Picture show which

seems like a good place to start this weeks pictures

As I have known for a long time, life is always full of learning experiences. This week I learnt:-

• I won’t make a good woman;
• Wanting killer heels is best left as an unfulfilled desire;
• Charity shops smell of old people; and
• Machines can really embarrass you.

This weeks blog is best taken with an open mind and suspended belief ….

It was off to Windsor, as our friend Lisa had booked us tickets for The Rocky Horror Picture Show. There had been a bit of a debate between Mrs B and me as to whether we should dress up. Mrs B was not keen, while I felt it would add to the sense of fun. For those of you who don’t know, The Rocky Horror Picture Show tanked when it first came out in the early 80’s. It was saved from obscurity when it built up a cult following based around audience participation, with people dressing up as characters from the show, shouting out the dialogue and using props for interaction. There is even a peculiar RH etiquette that guides which props should be used when viewing the film version and which ones for the stage show. People going to see the show for the first time are known as RH Virgins. Despite having seen the DVD, Mrs B and I were still classed as RH Virgins. Most virgins only dip their toe in the water and dress relatively conservatively. I, however, have never been one to hold back –

Just an ordinary Saturday night out

for the Black household......

I can report that the show was fantastic fun. Poor old Mala and Craig, friends of ours who had come along, got a bit more than they bargained for but after the initial shock they managed to join in and are still talking to me (even if it is through the letterbox of a securely locked door.) Christopher Biggins (yes he was in the original film as a party goer)  was brilliant in the role of the Narrator and took the audience’s heckling in good spirit. One guy in the row in front of us even stood up and stripped down to his white vest and pants at the same time as the rather square character of Brad was stripped to his, on stage.

I know the economy's bad but I didn't realise

people were actually losing their shirts.....

So you get the picture, the whole thing was done with a great sense of fun and much tongue in cheek, that is until the actor playing Frank n Furter cracked, part way through the second half, and screamed out after one too many heckles:

“Twatt time is over buddy; it’s time to leave it to the Professionals.”

Honestly, so uncalled for!

I really wish I had shouted out “OK then. Bring out the professionals!”…………… but I was so shocked at his uncalled for onslaught that I hesitated and the moment was gone….

Twatt time is over is it...I think the

jury might be out on that one...

I may have lost my dignity (what little I had) in the theatre that night but had so much fun in the process that I don’t care. Mrs B, who really was not keen to dress up initially, is already planning her costume for next time, as well as making suggestions for me. What a turn around… Before I leave you with the true pictorial horrors of the night, I have to thank Mrs B and our friend Mala for doing my make up….They are available at an unbelievably cheap rate considering what a transformation they made of me - from absolutely gorgeous (let a man dream) to truly grotesque (you can't argue against this one). A big hand for Mrs B and Mala….

Thank you for the makeup, girls - I think…

I'm Frank -N- Furter....No I'm Frank -N- Furter ....

No I'm Frank -N- Furter and so's my wife....

Craig and Mala still in shock....

How to win friends and influence people

- I think the guy on my left felt

 he was too pretty for make up

Sometimes I think Mrs B is only with me

because I make her look good...

Looks like Philip is practicing for Guitar Hero

Rocky manages to flip out

 

 Claire and Lisa plan a quick getaway -

For anyone who is having difficulty keeping their

food down Lisa is responsible for my look this week...

"Where did you get that shade of lipstick? It's simply divine.."

 More pictures at the end of the blog

- if you think can handle them

So, in summary, I learnt why:

I won’t make a good woman - Now this is hard for me to take. It’s not that I have any desire to be a woman but I do like to make the best of everything I do. It came as a shock therefore and quite a disappointment that me as a woman would probably be classed as, at least, a “50 pinter”. Please note that anyone who does not feel nauseous after seeing some of this week’s pictures (I’m not talking about Mrs B who looks as hot as ever) should probably leave the BlackLOG immediately and seek psychiatric help. Anyone who feels even slightly turned on (really?) needs a cold shower, psychiatric help and a damn good kicking, to knock some sense back into them or alternatively you might need the services of a really good optician and possibly a white stick and labrador.

Wanting killer heels is best left as an unfulfilled desire – Fortunately I could not find any killer heels to fit me, so I made do with some big hiking boots. The male members of the audience who did manage to track killer heels down lasted about 10 minutes before they were crippled and hobbling around in agony.

Charity shops smell of old people – Mostly dead old people. I was trying to get some glittery high heels and so was prepared to put up with the smell in my quest. In one particularly stinky shop, there was a fantastic glittery red pair that Dorothy would have sold Toto for cat food in order to own them, but fortunately (see above) they were about 5 sizes too small for my delicate sie 10’s. I probably should have done what Cinderella’s ugly sisters did and cut my toes off. Maybe next time.

Machines can really embarrass you – I will now try and bring you back down to earth after the shock of the Rocky Horror Picture Show with:

The cruelty of electronics
Our Virgin Media box kept freezing on us, so after re-booting it umpteen times as well as unplugging and leaving it for 45 seconds before re-booting it yet again, whilst hopping on one leg in fishnet stockings (they were left over from the Rocky Horror Picture Show and the Virgin Media help line thought it might help), all of which failed to improve matters, Virgin Media sent an engineer. He arrived within an hour, most impressive. I checked the box about 20 minutes before he arrived, because there is nothing worse than an engineer coming out and finding nothing wrong. The engineer arrived and, of course, the Box worked perfectly. He fiddled about with it for an hour, told me that there was nothing wrong with the box. I had to agree, it was indeed working perfectly. He left.....and 20 minutes later the box froze....Aaaarrrrrggggghhhh!!!!!

Me - "You utter, utter, complete and utter bastard."

Box - nothing

Me - "Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

Box - continued to say nothing

I unplugged it and left it for a couple of hours - I was very tempted to drop kick it out the door.

Sky one Player
As a result of the unoffical strike and subsequent work to rule by the Vigin Media box, we had managed to miss a couple of episodes of House. No problem I thought, that's what “On Demand TV” is for. Only problem I discovered was that Sky programmes are not available on demand for Virgin Media customers. Searching around the internet I found a couple of opportunities to watch the latest show. One of them was even free if I was prepared to complete a couple of online surveys. OK, how bad could that be? 20 minutes later and with the surveys going from strength to strength and showing no signs of coming to an end this side of Christmas, I decided to abandon the idea. I then tracked down Sky player – Sky’s online version of On Demand. I found the House episodes that we had missed and optimistically hired them. When I went to play them, I got the message:

“Your PC is not authorised to play this content.”

Me - "OK, how do I authorise it?"

After searching around the Sky player site I found a little note:

“Your PC will be authorised once you play your first purchase.”

Only it won't as your PC is not actually authorised to play anything until you have played something which it can't actually play because the PC is not authorised to do so..... I'm sure this is how mass murderers get started - through sheer frustration.

I called the helpline. They were predictably less than helpful; especially once they found out I was not a Sky subscriber. I did point out that you didn't have to be a subscriber to use the player. They took me through, step by step, the procedures that I had already read on their website and put into action. They then sent me a copy of those same instructions by email.......At this point I gave up, House could wait until the DVD gets released..... About two hours later, however, someone called me from Sky Player and told me the top secret “tell you and we might have to kill you” missing instruction I think they must have wiped my mind afterwards as I can't for the life of me remember what they were. It now works perfectly. Why don't they just add the top secret bit to their website instructions in the first place?

Discovering Mrs B is Hairist
I was having difficulty persuading Mrs B to see Kasabian with me. She claimed she didn't like the music, yet whenever I subliminally played any of their songs she happily listened until I toldl her who was playing. At which point she suddenly became less keen. Eventually she caved and agreed to go and guess what? She loved it. She loved it so much that for the next few days that was all that she played. After a bit of research I found out what the problem was, Mrs B had seen an old picture of the group with long lanky hair and it has put her off. When Kasabian came on stage, however, they had all had haircuts and so proved presentable to Mrs B. The Arctic Monkeys have, for the opposite reason, fallen out of favour after growing their hair…..

Well done for getting through this week’s BlackLOG which I suspect was as traumatic for you as it was for the people of Windsor, who witnessed far too much of my flesh than they would have liked. For the record, yes I did this sober. This is probably just as well because how bad could it have been if I had been bladdered….? I just need to work on my muscles (or purchase a Mr. Muscle body suit) and next year it will be a pair of Rocky’s skimpy, gold hot pants and nothing more. You can start praying (or petitioning) now to prevent it happening.

I'm afraid that for a second week I have left my reward from Gingerella unwrapped and in the loo- I will get around to opening it soon, honest ..... what do you mean you want to take it back....


There is also no room to include an update on your porn names this weeks, so if you have not done so already pass it on….You know you want to

‘Til next week if you are still with me…..Let's face it I obviously need all the support and help that I can get

Looks like it's time to break out

your porn star names girls

Ooops - Lisa starts to regret serving

Mrs B the Baked Beans

I think Claire is jealous of my shoes - the poor girl, this

is only the second time she has met me, the other

time was at a funeral.

"On reflection I probably should have gone for the Brazilian...."

Christian looks like he came as the Joker

- did I go to the wrong show?

Mischief & McG are so ashamed that they

are currently looking for a new home...

The need to go back to work for a rest

We have had the week off, which I thought would be a nice and relaxing time, getting us ready for the build up to Christmas. Mrs B, however, had other ideas. To make the new TV feel at home (and for me to realise the magnitude of her gesture in agreeing to such a large TV …………..and there was me thinking it was to do with the diamond ring that I bribed her with) Mrs B has decided that most of the house needs an upgrade which as far as I can tell involves paying out vast sums of money to various workmen who proceed to wreck the joint with a vague promise that “it will turn out all right in the end, guv”. During this process, we discovered that workman are very territorial and don’t like sharing space with other workmen; they aren’t all that keen on us being around us; and some of them don’t even seem to get on with themselves. I had to intervene twice with one guy who kept picking on himself and at one point was arguing so loudly that it drove the cats out of their normal hiding places around the house and off into the garden (which is almost unheard of).

McG or is it Mischief (difficult to tell)

hiding from the workmen

It has been a stressful time working out a schedule that gives each workman enough time to do their work and clear out before the next one arrives. Quite tricky when Mrs B has booked, in the space of one week, :-

- Velux windows installed in the hall – to allow delivery men extra light to see where they are going when they deliver the TV. I offered to put a more powerful bulb in the hallway but Mrs B convinced me that for something this expensive only daylight will do. What’s the betting the delivery of said TV takes place after dark….?

- Remove the fire place and surround – to make sure the room is cosy enough for a large TV. Like a room with a 58” TV can ever be described as cosy…………

- Replace the stair carpet. This is getting silly - it’s like the TV is royalty. Unless it is going to get a tour of the house before settling in its new home, the TV will pass, but never actually get to use, the stair carpet.

- Decorate the living room, dining room, hallway, (please note that this is an “Oxford Comma”, not entirely sure what that is but if it’s good enough for Vampire Weekend it’s good enough for me) and one of the spare rooms. Again this only comes into play if the TV gets a royal tour of the house. Apparently Mrs B is taking no chances.

- Have new window shutters fitted - so the light does not disturb the TV when it is having a kip in between mammoth film watching sessions.

I have a sneaky suspicion that Mrs B might be taking advantage of the TV; I’m monitoring the situation and will let you know………..

You would have thought that all the hard work would be done by the workman. Not a chance. You have to keep an eye on them all the time and it’s worse than dealing with a bunch of 5 year olds…

“Put that power tool down and step away from the decorator…”

“Yes it is a very nice and neat box and yes you have put a lot of work into it but it’s not what we asked for and won’t actually work for us!” This was our reaction after we had given the carpenter instructions on the minimum size of the opening that we needed for the bespoke cabinet Mrs B is having built to hide all my electrical gubbins and left him unsupervised for a couple of hours. Despite the fact that we discussed with him the number of units that we needed to house and he was working next to the miles of spaghetti spewing from my current entertainment setup he had taken it on himself to create a box to the precise measurement of just the amp without allowing any room for anything to connect into it at the back. He got very sulky when he had to dismantle it. Yes I have to admit that it looked neat but was going to be about as useful as a chocolate teapot…Oh damn I should not have mentioned tea - they are all demanding more. What is it with workmen? Most of them seem to be on a minimum of 15 cups an hour…. I think it’s costing us more to boil the kettle than for the actual work that we are having done.

I even have to keep an eye on Mrs B. I don’t know if you have seen Spinal Tap and can remember that they gave instructions for a life size model of Stonehenge to be created for their stage show? This would have worked really well except when they gave the instructions to the builder they asked for 8” rather than 8’ and so, as the creation descended onto the stage during the first performance, instead of the behemoth of a prop they were expecting, a tiny little model appeared that could hardly be seen. Mrs B attempted to recreate this scene in the living room. In her mind she had created a substantial stepped effect in the height of the living room cabinets. In reality, however, the 50mm difference in height she actually asked for was barely noticeable……….For once I felt sorry for the carpenter as he dismantled the structure and started again..


Just at the point when I thought I could have a bit of a rest, a lorry turned up and dumped three years worth of salt blocks for our water softener onto the driveway. I guess it was my own fault as I had actually ordered it but I had assumed that it would take a couple of weeks, not a couple of days, to come through

One of the roofers (the more intelligent of the two – i.e the one who could string three and, on occasions, four words together, asked me what it was for :-

Me :– “It’s salt for a big dinner party we are throwing…”

Slightly more intelligent of the two builders, but that’s not saying a lot :- Blimey mate, you get through a lot of salt at your dinner parties. Perhaps I’m being unfair on him - that was a whole sentence.

This was our third favourite conversation with him, the second favourite being when he had just finished plastering around the window and announced to Mrs B:

S.m.i.o.t.t.b.,b.t.n.s.a.l :- “That’s not a bad job considering I’m not a plasterer.”

Mrs B :- Speechless

My favourite conversation with the roofers took place on the first day. They had just knocked a hole through our roof when he announced:

S.m.i.o.t.t.b.,b.t.n.s.a.l :- “Did you have difficulty getting planning permission for the windows?”

Me:- “What planning permission?”

S.m.i.o.t.t.b.,b.t.n.s.a.l :- “Did the Gov’nor not tell you?”

Me :- “No!!!”



TV update
It was all going so well until I made the mistake of trying to support the local shops. Yes they price matched. Yes they gave me a five year warranty. Yes I would get it in 7 to 10 days… Only after they took my money did they inform me that it was very unlikely that they would be able to get us the TV before Christmas. Before Christmas?! Even the worst maths student in the word would find it hard to take 7 to 10 days and make that equal to 5 weeks…..Aaaaarrrgggghhhh!!!!!!


Boy’s toys
To console myself with the long wait for the TV and the less than restful week, I got to play with a power saw that one of the workmen left over night. Fantastic! I started out by cutting a couple of batons for some shelving I’m creating in the loft. The next thing I was out purchasing more wood to feed my new addiction. I have now cut enough wood to build a reasonable sized log cabin.

Death and destruction at the hands of a power tool

Fantastic stuff, bring on the next tree....

Busted
Mrs B found my secret squirrel stash of goodies (chocolate bars, biscuits etc that Mrs B deems unsuitable for me to eat), I knew there was a reason why I banned her from the garage…. Before you judge me harshly, and in my defence, I would like to call to the witness stand a jumbo-sized tin of biscuits:

Me :- You are a jumbo-sized tin of biscuits?

J-stob :- That is correct

Me :- Do you remember the day I brought you out to serve to some guests?

J-stob :- I do

Me :- Were you sealed?

J-stob :- Yes

Me :- When I unsealed you and offered you to the guests, how many biscuits did you contain ?

J-stob :- I don’t know, I’m a box of biscuits and I can’t count.

Me :- It’s OK, I shall protect you from any repercussions .

J-stob :- I would rather not say.

Me :- May I remind you that you are under oath.

J-stob:- Two

Me :- Speak up, I didn’t catch that.

J-stob:- Two

Me :- What is your capacity?

J-stob :- About 40

Me :- Is there anyone present in the room who had previously opened you?

J-stob:- Points a corner accusingly at Mrs B – admittedly this would have been more effective if it had not been a round tin…..

Me :- And did that person reseal you?

J-stob:- looking really guilty Yes

Me :- Sorry?

J-stob:- Yes.

Me :- I rest my case.

Porn star name (or Prawn star name if you ocean fixated)
You have probably played it before but in case you haven’t or want to share it with the world again

The rules

Take your first ever pets name
Then add your mother’s maiden name

It’s only fair that I kick things off. My Porn Star name is……….

“Muffin Searson”

While Mrs B’s is

“Porgy Beerling”

I’m just thankful that I didn’t abuse my first pet in the past with names like:

Limpdick
Crap in bed
Wee wee,poo,poo,nipper (yes that was an old friend’s first pet’s name. Basically his porn career is stuffed…..although there is probably a “speciality” market out there….)

Now be honest and no cheating

Thank you to Gingerella for bestowing on me an award. I have to do things with it but have run out of time so that will happen next week. For those of you with a squeamish nature it might be a good idea to avoid next week’s BlackLOG as we are going to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show in full costume. There will be pictures, so don’t say you weren’t warned…………………..

With all the speed of a dead sloth

Not dead or a sloth, McG does his impression
of the speed of a BlackLOG posting.

For the record this is my 93rd post. It has taken me almost 2 years to get here and it will be well into 2010 (about 4pm on the 1st of January, if I can get a signal from the ski slopes of France, at my current rate of posting) before No.100. I'm getting excited - will I get the blogger equivalent of a telegram from the Queen?

Some sites passed 100 postings in less than three months and are still accelerating. All I can say is it takes time to craft this drivel and I make no apologies for my once a week strategy. (If you wish to read between the lines, Mrs B would become the former Mrs B if I spent much more time here.)

In all that time and through all your suffering some good has actually come of it. I know for instance that I have inspired 3 people to create their own blogs. I would like think that they were impressed by my efforts, although I have a sneaky suspicion that the thought process was more like:

Inspired Blogger 1 :- "If that idiot can do a blog, anyone can."

Inspired Blogger 2 :- "What, who is he? I've never heard of him..."

Inspired Blogger 3 :- "I must save the dignity of Bishops Stortford from the outrage that is the BlackLOG"

Readers - your mission this week is to go check them out and read some of their old stuff. If you like it, get on and become a fan and support them in their future endeavours, laugh at the good times and cry through the bad.

Skipper the Quarter Horse - (We go way back and Mrs B and I try and see Skipper and the family at least once a year. They always make us so welcome.)

Conform Consume Obey  - (Despite working in the same firm for a number of years we have never met. He has moved on to pastures new but still supports the Fantasy Football (that's soccer to you non-Europeans) league I run.)

Midge's musings- (My relationship with IMO started when she stumbled into the BlackLOG earlier this year, I think she is still looking for the exit. Despite living in the same town we have never met. Or perhaps we
have......?)

Yoga update
I've been a bit quiet on the Yoga postings recently as there are only so many ways I can describe how rubbish I am at it before you get bored. I thought you might enjoy this exchange however:

Yoga Teacher: :- "Are you comfortable in that position?"

Me :- "Yeeessss" - I always get skeptical at any point in a class when attention turns to me, it's never destined to end well for me....

YT :- "Are you sure you are comfortable?"

Me :- "I can assure you it feels as comfortable as I ever get in Yoga"

YT :- "I'm the teacher and I know what's comfortable for you!!!"

This could have gone on for a while but it suddenly dawned on me we were at cross purposes.

I thought, selfishly, when YT said "are you" she meant "Did I feel comfortable" but what she really meant was - my position was not aesthetically pleasing to her and made her uncomfortable.  I, as usual, tried to explain that my body did not move in the same circles as the rest of the class, preferring to find its own path. A couple of attempted adjustments later and some earth shattering shrieks from me and we compromised. This meant me being left as a quivering wreck, while she moved on to the more malleable members of the class...

TV watch
1 hour and 15 minutes, 33 seconds after getting agreement for the new large TV from Mrs B it was ordered. It would have been sooner but it took a little while to get the local shop to price match and include the 5 year warranty.

How things have changed. The last time, when I was negotiating for the 36"
TV, there were tears and an outburst of why do we need anything bigger than a 21"? This time, with 58" of Plasma magic heading in our direction, Mrs B actually declared that she is looking forward to watching the big TV ....Damn I should have held out for the 65".

It's time to step into the TimeBLOG (patent still pending) while I take you back a few years .......

Unintentional experimentation with homelessness
I managed to lock myself out of the house last week through a combination of bad luck, poor timing but mostly gross incompetence on my part. While I would like to sweep this incident under the proverbial carpet, a sense of fair play (I'd certainly report it if any one of you did the same*) and a lack of other interesting incidents this week leads me to this sad confession.

While the experience only lasted just over two hours, before Mrs B returned to save me from having to track down a shopping trolley, put all my worldly goods into it and then head off to the nearest soup** kitchen, it felt like an eternity. I had a bit of luck in that I had my Ipod with me but sadly the headphones were the other side of a locked door and at least it was dry until it started raining.

The cats were very supportive through the entire event, peering at me from the warmth of our well-lit kitchen. They decided not to use the cat flap to come and visit but made it perfectly clear they were less then happy that their dinner was going to be served late. Mrs B was most surprised to see me rushing up the driveway to greet her and I'm sure it was only shock at seeing what looked like a genuine homeless man, 2 hours of beard growth, dishevelled clothes and a look of hopelessness which caused her to swerve towards me and nothing to do with the extra life insurance she took out on me last month***.

* In fact here I go. My story of woe managed to flush out that a friend of ours locked her child in their car with the internal sensor alarm engaged. This made me feel a little better about my situation. My advice if you own both a child and a car is to get a child flap fitted, I suspect the child is unlikely to use it, especially if they are strapped in like Houdini but it will allow you to feel better about the situation. Especially when you work out that there is a one in a million chance of the child working its way out of the restraints and then out of the car, but as every one who has read Pratchett knows, million to 1 chances work out 9 times out of 10.

** I never was that keen on soup and somehow I don't expect they are likely to serve it with a side order of steak and chips.

*** I would like to point out this last part is pure fabrication and used for dramatic effect. While most things in the BlackLOG are based on real events, for reasons of pace and interest they are often stretched into the world of unreality**** . In truth, Mrs B was most concerned at my plight, especially as, like the cats, it resulted in her dinner being delayed.

**** I have for instance been asked if at Halloween I really drove the Mini with the roof down through a bunch of potential Asbo's. Are they mad, of course I had the roof up, those little ankle biters can move quickly and you really don't want a bunch of them clinging to your head as you speed into the night.

McG trying out a new home, in case I try and
experiment with homelessness again…

That's it for another week, thanks for dropping in....

Bringing the murky underworld of comments to the surface

Before I start this week's BlackLOG I have a question to those of you who post blogs almost daily, are you taking Blogagra? (a writer's version of a little blue pill that helps bloggers get their posts up...) I struggle to find the time and inspiration to post once a week.....

McG helps Mrs B Edit the BlackLOG.  Mrs B has that
glazed expression that tells me she is having a busy
time.  McG is giving me a very disapproving look.

The murkey underworld of comments
As it has been a fairly slow week I thought I would highlight an area of Blogging that is often overlooked - the comments section. Personally I feel some peoples' best work takes place deep below the surface. For those of you who only read the BlackLOG in the hope of some car crash writing, my comments on the BlackLOG and other Blogs are completely without the aid of a Mrs B safety net.

There are different approaches that Bloggers take to comments :-

• Some embrace them and attempt to reply to each one.
  
•  Some occasionally make a trip down there and might make the odd remark.
  
• While others seem to treat the area like a no go zone. The ones in this category that I really find amusing are the ones that beg people to make a comment at surface level, but when you get down there you see that they have never responded to a single comment in their bloglife. I say to them "Reap what you sow my friends….."

My feelings on comments

•  They demonstrate that people out there are taking an interest in what a blogger is writing
  
• If someone has taken the trouble to write a comment I feel it is only fair for a blogger to acknowledge the effort that the reader has made - I guess if I was getting 100’s of comments on my posts I might take a different track but currently I’m receiving enough to make me feel warm and wanted but not enough to feel resentful.
  
• The comment count is just a number, what really makes a difference is the quality not the quantity

You don't have to be a blogger to be able to comment or even identify yourself – one of my regular commenters ,IMO, does not have a blog, which is a real shame because from the comments that she makes I think she would make a great blogger. Perhaps one day..

For those of you who have not ventured into Comment World, you have missed out on my being threatened with legal action by the owner of From the Inside...Out.......

Dear Mr. BlackLOG (If that is even your real name)

As attorney for Ms. Kathryn Wonderwoman, I must ask you to cease and desist with this barrage of negative connotations with regards to the facsimile in the fastidious nature of your use of the terminology with which you refer to her in any way, shape or form as being a bickerer. (As I charge her $25.00 usd per word, I needed to make a long point here.)

She said something more like "He's pissing me off. He's calling me names. I still didn't even get my blood sample."

Sincerely and with the most affection one can presume and still stay on the side of propriety,

The Big, Bad American Lawyer.

------------------------------------------------

Kathryn, I have instructed Bicker, More, Bickering and C-Ewe Ink-Hort (Solicitors to the formerly rich) to act for me and contact you through From the Inside...Out. These guys don't take prisoners and have already served me a writ for taking too many steps on their new carpet...Sorry that it has come to this.

Dear Kathryn Wonderwoman (like that’s your real name, our guess is it is Shaz Wonderwoman) On behalf of our client Mr. BlackLOG we laugh in the face of your rather cheap lawyer letter ($25.00 dollars a word, where did they get their qualifications, off the internet? ) with our £1000 per letter + £2,000 for each capital, space and punctuation. You are charged with :-

Making wild allegations that Mr. BlackLOG is insane. Our client feels this is very harsh on the insane. (We have been looking to round up as many of them as we can, to file a class action against you for defamation of their individual character (in some cases multiple characters...) .

Being loud & New Yawkee – Since our client moved into the basement of “From the inside…Out” you are guilty of putting in a hard floor and stomping – yes STOMPING in 4” killer heels (sometimes 3 pairs at a time). Driving a loud and annoying car – I quote your very words “When my neighbor mentioned the other day that she can tell every time I come down our hill by the incessant s-q-u-e-a-k of my car”

Cruelty to haemophiliacs – with your constant demand for blood samples. While our client is not currently a haemophiliac, he has aspirations, after all many of his royal family are haemophiliacs and although he is not a huge fan of said royal family, he does appreciate that they help bleed the tourists dry….

Putting yourself about a bit – being all over the blogging world like a rash, with your excessive niceness and encouragement to other bloggers as well as practicing illegal franchisement within the confined environment of the World Wide Web


We, at extra charge to our client, are throwing in the following legal type jargon :-
res judicata,
en banc,
warrantee of merchantability,
statute of frauds

....for added emphasis and additional revenue.

Bicker, More, Bickering and C-Ewe Ink-Hort (Solicitors to the formerly rich)

--------------------------------------------

Dear Mr. BLOCKHEAD:

My name is Ester. Ester Finkleboom. I'm a temp. and they asked me to type you this here letter 'cause they're all visiting their client, one KathrynWunderWomanExtraordinairre who is presently in the hospital after nearly choking to death whilst evidently reading some faux letter sent by some idiot pretending to be from Bicker, More, Bickering and C-Ewe-Ink-Hort, which we all know is bullshit ('scuse me) 'cause Bicker died in '98, More's in jail for tax evasion and Bickering's been MIA since that scandal involving a case of bourbon, a fake passport and a sedated peacock.

Why the hell do you have all those stupid-funny "E's" in front of your fees? Are they estimates?? What kind of a hack-place are you running there?

Our firm stands by the allegations that Mr. BadLeg is certifiably insane, as evidenced by document R2-75J, entered as exhibit A...so, bite me.

The floor-stomping and brake-squealing have been thrown out of court as irrelevant. They may be annoying to YOU, but our client finds them hilarious, as does the judge.(See Exhibit A.) Again: bite me.

The haemophiliacs-ruse is predictable. And your client should have more empathy for those who suffer from hemorrhoids. I hear they can be quite painful in a particular area and I've heard the attorneys say that YOU are a pain in the same place. Huh.

As for being all over the net, you are obviously not aware that WWW stands for WorshipWonderWoman. She's everywhere...for if she wasn't it would just be...well, "W", and that's just plain stupid.

Please be advised that we have added an additional 5.27 million dollars to our judgment against you, to cover hospital expenses and the fact that your comment space NEVER ACTUALLY INCLUDED A COMMENT ON THE TOPIC...in clear violation of the Kathryn'sBloggersCommentAct of 2007. Consider yourself served.

Yours in the poor house,

Arrogant, Snobby, Superior, Egotistical & Supercilious.

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Dear Ester on behalf of our client

We are sorry that your client is in hospital especially as we are not there to enjoy her distress  comfort her….

Yes Bicker died

Yes Mores’ in prison – (It’s ok we gave him soap on a rope, so he should be ok)

Bickering is not MIA but still in action (oh the shame) and the sedated peacock consented to everything…The swan on the other hand is another story…Oooohhh nasty, excuse me a moment I think I’m going to vomit

Sorry about that… (Wipes chunks off screen and keyboard)

But since when did death, imprisonment or sexual deviance ever stop a lawyer from making money…?

As lawyers we admire your spin on things

The floor-stomping and brake-squealing have been thrown out of court as irrelevant – Not really true is it, the judge had them removed because they set off his tinnitus and reminded him of his mother in law's constant whining (we would ask your client to decease from salivating at this point it’s not that sort of wine….) They are still very much part of the case.

Yes Mr. BlackLOG is now insane – a fact which your client is wholly responsible for – at the start of this process our client was rich enough to be considered eccentric. Since receiving our interim bill he has now had to be down graded to insane.

As for the ludicrous accusation that the comment space NEVER ACTUALLY INCLUDED A COMMENT ON THE TOPIC – the whole comment was to do with the topic, in that our clients “Habitual Inclinations” include having to answer back as entertainingly as his limited ability allows. What we failed to add was his second Inclination, a requirement for constant music. Our bad but don’t worry Mr. BlackLOG will get a £1.50 rebate on his bill – sadly not enough to move him back to eccentric status

Bicker (R.I.P), More (Care of Her Majesty’s Prison), Bickering (Care of Whipsnade Zoo) - (Solicitors to the formerly eccentric)

Mr. C-Ewe Ink-Hort has been let go for not being interesting enough we are currently interviewing for a funnier replacement

P.S. Our client is grateful for the additional comments - they all count in the long run...

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Please note the comments in red, above, are the property of
Kathryn Wonderwoman - I am only using them as having been
certified insane I am safe from further Prosecution (but
not necessarily persecution)

OK, so Kathryn so kicked my butt around comment court but I'm not worried, I enjoyed the cut and thrust....

So next time you are reading a blog why not delve below the surface and see what's going on down there, you just might find it more rewarding than you would expect (or not if you didn't happen to enjoy the correspondance above).

For those of you who are put off adding a comment, using the excuse "I don't know how?" it's easy:

Step 1 - Scroll to the bottom of the post - sometimes the comments are there ready for you if not :-

Click on the comment - at the bottom of the page (The BlackLOG version is called 'Have your say')

Step 2 - Scroll to the comment box - add your pearls of wisdom

Step 3 - Click on the down arrow next to 'Comment as'

- if you don't have one of the accounts listed then select 'Comment as Name/Url' or you can select Anonymous (not so much fun, it gives you exactly what it says on the tin)

Fill in the name you want to use - P.S. you don't have to use your proper name (which is why Anonymous is such a lame choice)

If you have a web page that you wish to link to then put the address in the URL: field

If not you can just leave it blank

hit continue

Step 4 - Click the post comment button

Often you get a message 'Your request could not be processed. Please try again'

Just hit Post Comment again and it should post - you are on your first step to being a blogger.....

Some barriers to Comments
word verification (Where you have to type a blurred word into a field before you can comment. The idea is to prevent auto spam arriving in comments sections) - it never really bothered me, but some people are very anti it. Kathryn is, in-between suing me, running a single woman campaign to eradicate Word Verification from blogger...

Comment moderation - I didn't have a problem with this one until a Blogger that I enjoy reading decided to stop publishing my comments. I thought we had opened up a good rapport, until three comments I made did not appear. I emailed him to ask what the problem was but got nothing.  He continued to publish other peoples comments.

I like to console myself that they felt threatened by my awesome bloggerness but in truth they are probably a far better blogger than I will ever be. I decided that there was no point getting wound up about it, so have decided to leave them to it .   It is after all their blog and they can do what they want, just as it's my right to no longer visit them. After all  there are millions of fantastic blogs out there....

P.S. don't get any ideas, feel free to visit other blogs, this is not a dictatorship but you know you want to stay with the BlackLOG in the long run....

Horrific discovery of the week.
A colleague at work revealed that his favourite film of all time was :-

No not Star Wars - what universe is he living in?

Not Withnail & I -He must have been drinking again

Not The life of Brian - was he having a laugh?

Not The Shawshank Redemption, - people have been sent down for suggesting less

Not even One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest - was he pretending to be mental?

His No.1 film of all time, of all the films that have ever made is Polar Express. (sorry I had to whisper that, I could not bring myself to say it out loud).   To me this is a film devoid of any action, with no deaths, no unnecessary swearing (so no Eddie Murphy, which is in my opinion the only saving grace for the film....) in fact no redeeming features (other than the formentioned lack of Murphy).  It might even make it to the top of my most bland film of all time list....

His attempted defence for putting the film into the No.1 slot

"It contains moments of mild peril"
yes if you are four....

I decided against asking for the rest of his top 10....I have already had to clear up chunks earlier in this Blog and  don't want to have to do it again .

The ghost of Halloween past
Having done nothing of a Halloween nature this year, I thought I would share with you a Blog from a few years back. Ok so it's a repeat (or second chance if it makes you feel better) but this was only originally sent to a select few and in the spirit of fairness I don't see why they have to suffer alone...

Since I have nothing else in stock that is suitably Halloweenie,

Mischief agreed to dress up like a Witch's cat for me.....

So step into my TimeBLOG (patent pending) while I take you back a few years .......
Saturday was party night as Mrs B and I went over to Windsor to see my sister and her tribe. The kids were all set-up to play Halloween party games so it was only polite that I should join in, unfortunately after I thrashed them at eating the donut off the string game, I was banned from further participation - so much for teaching under 10's the concept of defeat.

It was just as well though as I did not fancy half drowning myself in an effort to eat health food. (I thought apples were for eating, not bathing with). My sister then decided to play around with the formula for the flour and sweet game, with the type of meddling that would not appear out of place in the Whacky Races. Instead of having one flour mound with a sweet in the middle and 4 half crazed kids* carving great swathes out of the flour, in an effort to force one of the others into toppling the sweet from its lofty position.

* looking like over indulgent coke addicts ready to snort the white lines down the middle of a road

The  original version has the great advantage of taking only minutes, my sister, bless her, had the bright idea of spinning it out. So out came 4 flour mounds, one for each kid (note none for me), along with instructions to take it in turns cutting away at their own flour heap, the winner being the child that has the last sweet still in place. What my sister had failed to take into account is the ability for small kids to shave minute particles of flour on each go, particularly when their bed time is looming. As you can imagine, this version took hours and everyone, including the kids, had lost interest in the result long before the end.

Having been out celebrating Halloween on Saturday night I completely forgot that Monday was actually the night that all the little tykes around our way chose to come visiting, threatening grievous bodily harm on anyone foolish enough not to supply them with enough sugar to keep them climbing the walls of their parents’ house for a good week or so. In general, I’m all for it, the more E numbers you can get into the little buggers the less opportunities and inclination their parents will have to produce more of the little ASBO candidates for future years. Plus it’s a particularly good excuse to stock pile enough sweets to see me through to Christmas.

I found myself alone in the house** with an empty candy jar and two missing cats. It was like a scene out of a bad Zombie movie (Before any one says, all Zombie movies are bad, I recommend you see "Shaun of the Dead") as out of control little people wondered aimlessly around the streets.

** Mrs B taking the sensible precaution of working extra late

I tried the trick of hiding under the kitchen table with the house lights out, but the constant knocking and cackling (plus the discovery that the cats had got there first and were in no mood to share this particular bolt hole) eventually drove me out of the house and off to the health club for a circuit session*** . My body has still not got over it. Next year I shall try a different tack and invest in a pair of finest quality ear muffs while I hunker down and attempt to eat my own body weight in sweets. This just leaves the problem of avoiding the very same bunch of snotty nosed Stepford children, for the next week, only they are now hyper on candy and demanding £20 for the Guy****, well that's inflation for you.

*** Foolishly I still had the roof down on the car, which meant I could not afford to stop and was forced to roar out of the garage leaving in my wake a mixture of enraged toddlers clutching their bags of swag and fearful parents counting up the number of sleepless nights their little treasures were collecting towards.

**** which will probably turn out to be some poor trussed up neighbour,who neither had the sweets or sense to get out while he still could. There, but for the grace of a fast getaway car, could have been me.

Perhaps the length of my Blogs and their random nature is why I should not try Blogagra..... Imagine this on a daily basis.... I shudder to think how much therapy regular readers would need after just a couple of days....

Have  a good week