ALL THESE RIOTOUS BEASTS!

This morning, when I returned from the shower, I found a most disconcerting sight: the Froad was perched on my clothes holding my wallet, and the one-legged monkey (Urasmus) was on my bed with a handbag.
No, I do NOT know why a fuzzy green critter needs money or wants to steal my credit card!

The more disturbing thing is the monkey's 'gender issue'. He's been that way since that accident in the product development department that cost him his leg. Or maybe it was the evil elf in Marketing, who slashed his throat, covered him in ketchup, and stuffed him inside a pumpkin during the Halloween carving contest in 2003.

Urasmus (the monkey) has, mercifully, forgotten all about those nasty events.
But he's been confused ever since.

Like most of the roomies on my side of the apartment he's not entirely sane. He's 'otherwise realitied'.

Savage Kitten's roomies are not like that.

The only roomie on her side who is even mildly nuts is Ms. Bruin, the senior Teddy Bear - who is very upset that my apartment mate spends so much time with Wheelie Boy (Savage Kitten's love interest), and keeps muttering "kill, kill', whenever his name is mentioned.


But that brings up an issue.

What if, hypothetically, a nice young lady comes over to visit me?
Time is not a problem, as Savage Kitten is absent for several hours at a stretch. Plenty of scope for a bit of ..... tea.

The problem is "animalistic" in nature.

How are the roomies going to handle it?


THE HYPOTHETICAL NICE YOUNG LADY

I have this nightmare vision of the Froad patting her down, trying to find her wallet. Or the monkey offering to give her a beehive haircut.
The Lord only knows what Totoro and the blue frog would do.

I suppose I could put them in Savage Kitten's room for the duration.
Except that when all the roomies are together, a riot ensues. One of them will say something outrageous, insults will fly, and there will be thumping and yells.
You can see that this precisely would NOT be conducive to romance.
No one can really put their heart into playing touchie-feelie when there's noise from the other room; it's too distracting.

Maybe I could bribe Angus (the she-sheep with the pretty pink bows) and Ms. Bruin to keep the critters quiet, perhaps tell them a story. That might work.

Alternatively, I could put my roomies on the chair in the teevee room, with a movie on the telly.
The problem with that scheme is that the young lady and I would then have to spend all our time in my bedroom.

Oh wait..... That's sort of the point.


It's still entirely hypothetical, though.

Haven't met anyone with just the right personality. She'll have to get along with my rowdy roommates. The Froad is a hamsaplo, the monkey pushes the envelope, the sock-sheep wants all the attention and admiration he can get. There's also the lizard......
The Raccoon is just nuts - he thinks he's German, and he's a panty thief.
I haven't yet mentioned the violent hamsters or the weasel, nor even the three dysfunctional Teddy Bears that also live on my side.


As you can plainly see, a suitable young lady would have to be exceptional.
Even if all we plan to do is quietly sit together, reading and drinking tea.
A kind and tolerant person with an affinity for little troublemakers.
Someone with imagination, who gets along with rambunctious hairballs.


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THE COMPLETE INTERNET FETISHIST

Occasionally I check out the stats for this blog to find out how many people cruised on in, and what they were looking for.
My readers (including you) are a fascinating lot.

You'll be pleased to know that the Pakistanis haven't discovered me yet - they lead the world in Google searches for "child sex", "animal sex", and "rape sex", so it should be quite a while before they come here. None of those categories of typical Pakistani sexuality are featured much on this blog.
Except in passing, primarily to sneer at Pakistanis.


What are my readers looking for instead?


Drucquer & sons tobacconist
This search I can well understand. I worked at Drucquers for a few years, and like many pipesmokers I keenly wish it had not faded from sight. The famous mixtures that this store produced are no longer made, alas. But those who remember blends such as Trafalgar or Red Lion with fondness will no doubt have already discovered Greg Pease, who since leaving Drucquers went into the tobacco business for himself, and has compounded some absolutely fabulous stuff.

Balkan Sobranie
Another search-criterium that has my sympathy. And like Drucquers, Sobranie is no more. Some people are paying extraordinary prices for unopened tins, three hundred dollars and up. Which is rather ridiculous.
I still have over a dozen tins, and I'm not selling. Sorry.

Frilly panties
A cute posterior attractively packaged in frilly panties may well be one of the finer things in life. But you will find no pictures on this blog, nor excessively tactile descriptions. Again, sorry.
I encourage you to find or feel your own.

Geert wilders
This must be a newly popular sexual fetish. Frankly, I am rather appalled, but I realize that most people cruise the internet looking for Balkan Sobranie, kittens, and Japanese porn. To the best of my knowledge, there is no Japanese porn featuring Geert Wilders. Yet.

Black lace garter belt
Like the aforementioned 'Frilly Panties', one of the finer things in life. At some point I may acquire one of these myself, but I would much rather meet a person who wears one.

Pipe smoking ladies
Probably the sweetest fantasy that anyone can have. No, it's not sexual. Charming young women should smoke pipes. Cigarettes are for sailors, snuff is for coots.

Little virgins
This too is wonderful, especially if you're a Dutchman. Cover 'em with chopped onion. Even many non-Dutch love little virgins, although the Germans tend to pickle them in a vinegar solution, and other people drench them with cream or capers.
I do not know anyone who isn't fond of matjes herring.



You will note that this post is both self-serving and YOU serving.
I got to post links to some of my most popular articles (thus boosting them in internet searches), and you now have a handy list of everything you've always wanted. Enjoy.

Sorry, Pakistanis, nothing here for you.
But do please keep checking.
Regularly.


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YOU CANNOT SEE ANYTHING HERE

Occasionally I check my stats, to find out where my audience is, and what they are looking for.
Yes, I do want to cater to my loyal readers. Really.
Actually I'm fascinated by their search criteria.
What pulls them in?

Apparently, my loyal readers want nipples.

According to my stats, one of the search criteria people use to find my blog is "I can see your nipples".
Every week. Every day. Even right now. It's an all-time constant.
Readers type "I can see your nipples" as their criterium, and promptly find this normally nipple-free blog.

Given that that particularly post was actually about drinking coffee on a Parisian terrace, I have to think that it was purely the eloquent phrasing that stuck in my readers minds.
It wasn't the nipples themselves - they were never actually described - but the situation wherein some poor traveler focused on something only marginally nipplish at best. He was in France, and the style and pizzazz of French waitresses reached deep into his subconscious and playfully tweaked something there.


"I can see your nipples!"

What you actually wanted was some cream for your coffee. But the waitress was pert and charming, and this deranged your tongue. These things happen. Nipples have a tendency to do precisely that.
Don't try to deny it.


THE APEX OF THE MAMMARY

But that brings up a good point. If by any chance you can see a woman's nipples, and you are neither another woman (who can diplomatically alert the nipplesome one that her raspberries are showing), nor involved with her physically, it is probably a darn good idea NOT to say "I can see your nipples".
Nor anything else involving nipples.
Just don't say what comes to mind, let it go.
Be Zen.


"I can see your nipples!"

The fact that you can see her nipples means that you were looking. And if you admit that, it tells her precisely WHERE you were looking.

"My face is up here!"

"Yes, but your nipples aren't"

See? That isn't a conversation that you really want to be involved in. It won't lead anywhere good. Please stop thinking about her nipples. Think about strawberries instead. Rice cookies. Or coffee.
Concentrating on her nipples will take you to a very dark place.
It ain't worth it.
Trust me. I've been there.

Under almost all circumstances, saying "I can see your nipples" will get you in a load of trouble.

Perhaps it is best to tell yourself that nipples are dangerous, nipples are evil, nipples are the anti-Christ made breast.
Drop the word nipples from your vocabulary, and resolve never to mention nipples again. Do not think of nipples, or even things that resemble nipples. Nothing pink. No chocolate covered strawberries. No fruit yoghurt. No light switches. You cannot see nipples. The nipples are invisible. Nipples? What nipples?
There is NO mammarial acme.
Please convince yourself of that. For your own well-being.

Be nipple-free, little bird, be nipple-free.

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AFTERTHOUGHT

One of the best ways to keep from thinking about nipples is to concentrate on something else.
Perhaps you should think of Bic Lighters? Lizards? Twitchy wiggly lizards, tails flicking, tight little scaly torsos twisting and curving in your hand........
Oh crap, that will remind you of nipples!
There's something just too sexual, sensual, slithery about lizards. Your mind can ONLY think of nipples when you think of lizards.
Don't think of nipples.

I know, think of Hello Kitty! There are NO nipples on Hello Kitty. Nothing is more gender-free than Hello Kitty. Nice sweet cute Hello Kitty has NO nipples, none at all.
Hello Kitty is entirely sexless, neuter in all details. Not a shred of nipple.
Yes.

Think about Hello Kitty.


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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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