The Blog From The Bog; Disjointed rants and ravings of a fluently foul mouthed, ex pat living in Co. Leitrim, here giving full rein to his own quirkiness. The character of " Ditch Shitter " having been forged, over years, on 'The Hunting Life' forum proved so strangely popular with enough people there, before I left, that their now constant drip of " Long time, no see; What ye up to? " notes has led me to answer them all, here.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Aaaaagh! This Is Just Fucking Gross ....!
Don't read this if 'easily' disgusted! In fact, if ye easily disgusted? Boy! Have You come to the wrong Blog, entirely?!
Real time. I'm just sat here, having finished the second pint of Coopers Dark Ale and feeling a little bit more like a human for it. (Or, " Hughhhh Munnn! ", as Arnie would say). Anyway, I'm actually feeling So 'good', I decided I might even be able to eat something today. Sadly, I haven't got any green stuff in the place. But, even chips, chops and gravy's starting to form an appeal to me right now. Cool.
So, I eye my empty glass. Another one doesn't seem a bad idea. Just take it easy. And, how about that bit of dinner? Why not? Oh. I'll just peel this fucker off, then I'll go get started.
Tense my wrists. Brace my elbows on the arms of my chair. Take my weight as I lift my arse and ..... " Spurrrrrrrrrrrttch! " My fucking balls are Floating in it!
I'm sat here. Eye's locked on the screen. Thinking; " I never just done that? Did I?! " I had. FFS!
Still half way in denial, I eyeball the roll of kitchen towel above my screen. Kept there for blowing my nose in ~ seriously. I figure maybe it just felt like I had. I reach up for it. (" Bobble! Dunk! ") My testicles are now singing, " A Life On The Ocean Wave ....! ".
It gets worse: No good hoping it'll go away. It won't do. I have to sort this. Up I get, folding this sheet of kitchen roll. Not too small now. There's obviously some paper work to be done here ..... Oh, jesus christ! Another sheet, methinks! This is Serious!
And then I catch sight of le Ding. Er ... No, son. This isn't a job for you. This is Serio ..... Oh, Dingo! For Fuck Sake ....!!! Urrrgghh!!!
I just can't shake this mental image of him now. Laying there, day in, night out. Waiting. Slyly licking his chops and thinking; " Bastard's getting older. Can't trust a fart at the best of times. One of these days ....! Mmmm, Yummy! And I'll be in there. In like Flynn and get me a hot load of the good stuff. "
Just what the fuck Is it with Dogs? He tries to sniff my face in the morning? I'm knocking him spark out!
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