So Far, So Unpromising!

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Thank god for England

This year's Dieux Du Stade calendar and DVD are not looking very promising, so I'm planning on getting the Beverly Rugby Club one instead. Nice looking guys, not all arty-farty,overly made-up and groomed French pretty boys with their bits locked away!

Insomnia

Tonight I couldn't sleep, so I gave up at 5.30am, and started drinking poteen and blackcurrant. Bad idea. And I watched Black Sheep on DVD. Brilliant film, about genetically engineered sheep eating people! The movie is over, but I'm still drinking. I will regret it in a few hours, but I'm quite happy at the moment, thank you.
My advice,never buy a bottle of poteen in the first place, then you wont drink it. Although it truly is wonderful stuff. I was in the merchant navy many years ago, and once a year, we docked at Portaferry, in Northern Ireland. It's the most beautiful village ever, and the locals are (like everywhere in Ireland) incredibly friendly. And in the pubs and clubs, as well as the spirits on tap, they bung you two litre bottles of home made poteen, and you end up never wanting to leave. And if you wanted to leave, you would struggle to stand up anyway. I remember the crew staggering back to the ship as dawn was breaking, with traffic bollards on our heads. And the Pursar's wife not being able to speak, or look at the sea for two whole days after we set sail again. And I think that might have been the night I had a threesome with the chief steward and a deckhand. I'm a bit fuzzy on that. So don't drink poteen. That's what I'm trying to say. And traffic bollards are best left where they are, as are the people under them.
I probably ought to read this again in the morning, and see if it makes any sense, but I doubt if I will remember that I wrote it. My head is numb.

Here we have Obi. He's at least ten now. I was a bit worried about how he would react to Zac, although he had spent his life up until then living with a great dane. But he always saw the dane as his mother, and used to suckle the drool from her lips. He spent days wandering around looking for her after she died, so I knew he needed company, but he gets a bit stroppy with new animals sometimes. I needn't have worried though. Zac love Obi. They groom eack other, play fight when Obi starts it, if ever Zac tried to start a fight, Obii just walks off with his tail in the air. He is the boss! Zac seems quite happy about it though.

This is Zac. He's my baby. I got him a year ago, after my beautiful Great Dane died. My boyfriend didn't really want another dog, but I can't be without animals, so he made me promise not to gt another big dog. He likes Beagles, but I prefer something that people won't trip over, so I compromised and got a rottie. Weirdly, the boyfriend didn't look amused when I woke him up to say I'd bought one, and that it would be arriving in an hour. In fact, he got dressed, and went out for three hours. Then he came back, saw a 4 month old little black and tan beagle sized cutie running around the living room, and fell in love. But who wouldn't? I can't be doing with little dogs. It may be traditional for gay men to have a pampered dressed up rat/dog hybrid, but it isn't for me. Zac's best friend though, is a westie. He does wear a leather jacket. He is owned by a straight man, who likes to walk with Zac and me, because people tend to think he is gay otherwise. Go figure!

Just to set the tone.

My friends all reckon I'm a good laugh, cheerful and that sort of thing. So Here I will probably be displaying my other side. I'm a dickhead. There, I feel better already. I don't know what sort of blog this will turn out to be, probably a very short-lived experiment, but I expect it will be full of my moaning, so if that doesn't appeal, bugger off, for your own sake!
I will bung up some photos, otherwise it will feel like an empty bedroom in a doss house. Maybe it will turn out to be a photo based blog. But I doubt it.