Tuesday 5th February 2013
Good morrow Houseboy watchers! I thought I’d better pop in and open a page for the month of love and romance, or in this house, the month pretty much like any other.
Very excited by the news that they’ve finally found and identified the mortal remains of the last warrior king of England, the much-maligned Richard III. He’s been parked up in a car park in Leicester for the last 527 years. I shudder to think how much he owes in parking fees. I’ve broken out all historical and have begun reading up on him and the era he lived in. They were brutal times, but fascinating.
So where have I been and what have I been doing I hear you ask, either that or my earwax has built up again and needs syringing out, though actually they don’t syringe ears any more, they use a machine to suck it out. I wouldn’t like to be responsible for cleaning out that particular machine. I wonder what they do with all the accumulated wax? Maybe they sell it to candle companies or to polish manufacturers? We could all be polishing our best woodwork with a refined form of human earwax. Still, I suppose cleaning an earwax machine is marginally better than working in the porn industry and having a job cleaning sex machines. Fuck knows what accumulations build up there. I must remember not to mention sex machine cleaners to Dick or he’ll be looking to change careers.
To be honest I haven’t been much in the mood for chit and chat of late. I’ve been too busy sulking. I know, peeps, I know, those of you familiar with my diaries will find it almost impossible to believe me capable of sulking. I am though, when the occasion calls for it, as it did just over a fortnight ago when I discovered the men folk were planning a short impromptu skiing trip - WITHOUT ME!!! Since then they’ve been and gone and come back again, but between you me and the gatepost I’m still sulking a bit over it, but on the quiet when Dick and Shane, especially Shane, can’t see me. I warned them not to go in case they got caught in an avalanche, which they did, and what happened? I got the blame for it. Shane belted my bare arse fifty shades of crimson. Admittedly the avalanche in question did happen before they even left for France; in fact it occurred in the lounge when a mysterious dump of indoor snow fell cold upon his and Dick’s shoulders as they sat snuggling on the couch.
I must be off. I’ve got dinner to prepare. I’m still on a short leash so I dare not tarry too long in idle pleasure. I’m aware, my dear diary, that I have a few things to update you on and I shall endeavour to do so this month. I’m also behind with email replies, again, sorry about that. I do try to reply though regretfully I cannot reply in depth to every fan mail I get, as much as I’d like to. Be assured that I do appreciate those of you who take time to set quill to parchment (I think my medieval reading is beginning to influence me) Fare ye well for now dear people.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse, or a Tesco ‘beef’ burger, whichever is closest.
Thursday 14th February 2013
We had a flash in the pan snowstorm yesterday, a mad whirl and twirl of snowflakes that quickly shrouded everything in a mantle of white. I do like snow even if it does risk setting off a twitching session. I say flash in the pan because it’s all gone this morning, there isn’t so much as a twinkle of frost. I think that’s probably it for real snow this year now. It’s a shame. It would have been nice to have a white Valentine’s Day. It would have formed a bit of a contrast to all the red that abounds this time of year.
Speaking of Valentine’s Day it’s been predictably as usual in this house of no romance. There are no cards for me. I didn’t buy the boyfriends one either. They always say they don’t care for cards; they don’t need them so I didn’t buy any. I think a part of me was hoping that by not giving them a card they’d somehow notice the date more than if I had - twisted logic perhaps. Anyway, it didn’t pay off. Neither of them mentioned the lack of a red envelope beside their respective breakfast plates this morning. I doubt it’s even registered on their scale of what’s important in life. Maybe it was a relief for them not to have a card from me.
Once they left for work I consoled myself by getting out the Valentine cards they sent me what seems like eons ago along with the ugly teddy Dick gave me and a rose I pressed from the flowers Shane sent. At least I have had cards from them, if only once.
I was thinking about making a special romantic dinner tonight, but I’m not going to bother. They make no effort for me so I’m not making one for them. Romance isn’t romance when it only flows one way, so they can fuck off. I’ll make a run of the mill ordinary business class dinner because that’s my job and it’s what I get paid for. Sod it. I’m crying now. It’s time to go and do some housework instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Valentine’s Day is stupid anyway. It’s like Shane says, just a cynical commercial ploy to guilt trip people into buying overpriced useless stuff.
APRIL
Good morrow Houseboy watchers! I thought I’d better pop in and open a page for the month of love and romance, or in this house, the month pretty much like any other.
Very excited by the news that they’ve finally found and identified the mortal remains of the last warrior king of England, the much-maligned Richard III. He’s been parked up in a car park in Leicester for the last 527 years. I shudder to think how much he owes in parking fees. I’ve broken out all historical and have begun reading up on him and the era he lived in. They were brutal times, but fascinating.
So where have I been and what have I been doing I hear you ask, either that or my earwax has built up again and needs syringing out, though actually they don’t syringe ears any more, they use a machine to suck it out. I wouldn’t like to be responsible for cleaning out that particular machine. I wonder what they do with all the accumulated wax? Maybe they sell it to candle companies or to polish manufacturers? We could all be polishing our best woodwork with a refined form of human earwax. Still, I suppose cleaning an earwax machine is marginally better than working in the porn industry and having a job cleaning sex machines. Fuck knows what accumulations build up there. I must remember not to mention sex machine cleaners to Dick or he’ll be looking to change careers.
To be honest I haven’t been much in the mood for chit and chat of late. I’ve been too busy sulking. I know, peeps, I know, those of you familiar with my diaries will find it almost impossible to believe me capable of sulking. I am though, when the occasion calls for it, as it did just over a fortnight ago when I discovered the men folk were planning a short impromptu skiing trip - WITHOUT ME!!! Since then they’ve been and gone and come back again, but between you me and the gatepost I’m still sulking a bit over it, but on the quiet when Dick and Shane, especially Shane, can’t see me. I warned them not to go in case they got caught in an avalanche, which they did, and what happened? I got the blame for it. Shane belted my bare arse fifty shades of crimson. Admittedly the avalanche in question did happen before they even left for France; in fact it occurred in the lounge when a mysterious dump of indoor snow fell cold upon his and Dick’s shoulders as they sat snuggling on the couch.
I must be off. I’ve got dinner to prepare. I’m still on a short leash so I dare not tarry too long in idle pleasure. I’m aware, my dear diary, that I have a few things to update you on and I shall endeavour to do so this month. I’m also behind with email replies, again, sorry about that. I do try to reply though regretfully I cannot reply in depth to every fan mail I get, as much as I’d like to. Be assured that I do appreciate those of you who take time to set quill to parchment (I think my medieval reading is beginning to influence me) Fare ye well for now dear people.
A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse, or a Tesco ‘beef’ burger, whichever is closest.
Thursday 14th February 2013
We had a flash in the pan snowstorm yesterday, a mad whirl and twirl of snowflakes that quickly shrouded everything in a mantle of white. I do like snow even if it does risk setting off a twitching session. I say flash in the pan because it’s all gone this morning, there isn’t so much as a twinkle of frost. I think that’s probably it for real snow this year now. It’s a shame. It would have been nice to have a white Valentine’s Day. It would have formed a bit of a contrast to all the red that abounds this time of year.
Speaking of Valentine’s Day it’s been predictably as usual in this house of no romance. There are no cards for me. I didn’t buy the boyfriends one either. They always say they don’t care for cards; they don’t need them so I didn’t buy any. I think a part of me was hoping that by not giving them a card they’d somehow notice the date more than if I had - twisted logic perhaps. Anyway, it didn’t pay off. Neither of them mentioned the lack of a red envelope beside their respective breakfast plates this morning. I doubt it’s even registered on their scale of what’s important in life. Maybe it was a relief for them not to have a card from me.
Once they left for work I consoled myself by getting out the Valentine cards they sent me what seems like eons ago along with the ugly teddy Dick gave me and a rose I pressed from the flowers Shane sent. At least I have had cards from them, if only once.
I was thinking about making a special romantic dinner tonight, but I’m not going to bother. They make no effort for me so I’m not making one for them. Romance isn’t romance when it only flows one way, so they can fuck off. I’ll make a run of the mill ordinary business class dinner because that’s my job and it’s what I get paid for. Sod it. I’m crying now. It’s time to go and do some housework instead of sitting here feeling sorry for myself. Valentine’s Day is stupid anyway. It’s like Shane says, just a cynical commercial ploy to guilt trip people into buying overpriced useless stuff.
APRIL