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.
Thumbing a lift into town, some while ago. Woman pulled up and offered me a lift. Obviously, unusual enough in itself. Mature and respectab...
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Quick word about comments ...
Comments here are 'moderated'. In as much that I have to physically see them and wave them through once you hit Send.
So, if ye write a Comment. Post it. Don't see it? No worries. It's just sitting there, waiting for me to come online and find it in my email. I click and your words appear here.
Please don't post it several times. Get frustrated and storm off, never to be seen again. It's just a measure I was forced to put into place by doxxers, spammers and other, mentally unstable's.
Or, would it maybe be more precise to say; " Michael Stipe has become Me! "?! I'm fucking Mortified!
" Losing My Religion ". REM. Could there Be any more iconic fucking track of our life times?
" I thought that I heard you laughing. I thought that I heard you sing. I think I thought I saw you try. "
" Out Of Time " and " Automatic For The People " were as natural as CD collections in every home.
I've never quite got over the impression of Stipe, doing some number live, on stage.
He was basically holding onto the mike stands head and whip lashing his body back, forth and around. Shirtless.
I thought to myself then ~ as a relatively young, fully active, student of karate; " Fuck me!!! The musculature he must have! How fucking fit, to be able to move like that!!! "
So, the chube is now showing me these fucking vid's called, like: " X. The Story Behind The Song ". And Losing came up. And I clicked it. And Shit My Fucking Self!!!
It's me! (Okay. The hat's brown. Mine is black. I haven't got a pierced septum) But, That's Me!! The beard. The lines. The rheumy fucking eyes?! The entire fucking appearance? It's just un fucking canny!
And, it's not just me, off on some weird sort of self delusional trip or something. I showed people who've known me for fifteen fucking years now. They completely agree! Funny as fuck; I'm prattling on to Tommy, all the way home. Saying I have it on my phone and I'll show him, as soon as we stop. Tom's so eager to see the cause of all this hysteria, the moment we pull off the road, onto the track? He fuckin' stops!
" Now, " He says, " Show me this fucking thing ..... Oh My Fucking God!!! It's you is right!!! ".
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!
