Atishoo Atishoo, we all... get off???

The interwebz is an awesomesauce tool, I think most would agree, but some of the stuff you find on the net can be just so.... out there? I'm trying to choose my words carefully as I promised myself that when I started this blog I would try to keep an open mind and not allow it to be a place where I trash talked shit I either a, disliked, or b, do not fully understand.

I found something I just .... don't understand, even though I searched for it of my own free will *clicks fingers* just like that. 

Spaztastically misunderstood.....

I failed to report yesterday and quite clearly I'm not dead. Nope, I managed to survive a further night of dancing, drinking, piss taking and robbery. Yep, we got robbed. Some punkass mutha stole Dani's handbag that had a mass of ridiculously expensive things inside and 3 sets of keys. I know I know, we should refrain from taking things out with us, whilst inebriated, but us chicks NEED to carry so much shit it's untrue. I've now been forbidden from carrying my visa card and house keys out with me when I go and party, which is probably a good idea.

So yeah, today at the vets, something odd happened....

Curried Hangovers are just fckin wrong :/

I look so hawt right now, if Damon Salvatore saw me as I am right now, he'd devour me.... No seriously, I am so hungover and when I look in the mirror I feel violently sick. Positively, radiantly lookin like a cracktrampwhore on meth with Leprosy.

We decided to stay in last night and so I invited my friends round for dinner. I love cooking and considering curries are my guests' favourite dish, I decided to make one. I hate curry. Indian curries to be precise. I think it's all the 'bits' in it. Just gross. So even though I slaved like a mutha all afternoon to produce this Indian banquet, I myself just nibbled on rice and naan breads, thus not lining my stomach adequately and so following 3 bottles of wine, I was mullered. My home stinks of curry now, and no amount of Oust will make it go away, fml.

I can barely remember most of what we talked about last night but I woke up thinking about a prostitue school and vaguely remember Dani's asking if I would enrol. Apparently, I would attend. I think they make this shit up the next day to freak me out. 

Quite clearly I am fuckin useless today, I'm still in my PJ's and it's 3pm. I've managed to force some food down me, little by little but I'm not 100% sure it's gonna stay there. Regurgitated tuna jacket spuds, I would imagine, are like Exorcist sick coming back up. I hope I don't find out :/

I'd write more but tbh, I'm screwed. If I could do anything right now, it would be to crawl back into 'The Womb' and stay there for at least a week.

The route I must travel now, to become and feel once again human? Hair of the dog. Has to be...

If I'm still alive tomorrow, I'll report :)

Ciao for niao

Raven xoxo

Role Reversal....

So, it's no secret to those around me, except for my Poppa Bear, that for some 5 years I worked professionally as a stripper/lap/pole dancer. Working every weekend in the clubs, coupled with my 'normal' working week' as a legal secretary my life was insanely hectic for most of those 5 years. Thankfully, I have an amazing husband that took on almost 80% of the running of the house and child rearing whilst working flat out with Police shifts which enabled for this kind of rat race lifestyle.

I loved that job, truly. It was incredibly hard work both physicaly and mentally, couple that with the competition of other girls working and it's a job that can totally break you if you don't have a thick skin but it is one of the most liberating jobs for a person to have. Gone are most of the crack joints now and replaced with somewhat nice, subtle gentlemen's clubs. It's what the industry needed to be honest. 

Dude, wtf... Did you just probe me?

As kids, my parents brought me and my siblings up to be somewhat open minded and to never worry about criticism in being true to what we might want to believe in. They taught us that being different, or unique, was absolutely fine as it is always better than 'being a sheep and following the flock' That was one of my dad's favourite sayings... most of the time he'd say it after I'd moan that I had Rola Cola for school when all the cool kids had proper hardcore Coca Cola. Nevertheless, I took what he said to heart and I finally accepted that it was a-okay to be different. My dad has always been confident in what his beliefs are, no matter how far fetched they seemed at the time but it wasn't until my mom passed away 2 years ago that he kinda took this to a whole new level.

Wax on, wax soooo off....

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Scared shitless.... more please??

What is it, about being scared shitless, that we all love? Obviously, I'm not talking about our every day lives, but more films or roleplay scenarios. All the crazy fucked up ideas you see in films being methodically and graphically played out infront of you in the name of entertainment conjured up by some strange, unstable and normally paedo looking Director *Tarantino springs to mind, but he is God of movies so we'll let it go*. I'm a bugger for watching horrors, thrillers and some films that I can only categorize as *superbly sick and fucked up*. In the latter category I have films like Human Centipede I & II, Itchi the Killer and pretty much any Freddie Krueger stuff. Freddie haunts me tenfold. Even now, when I'm all grown up, I still can't face him. Over the last few years I have tried to confront my fear of Krueger, and my last attempt caused me to mow down an old geezer.