'Oh Think Twice...'

'It's just another day for you and me in paradise'...well it would be should we both be lying on our loungers upon the white sands of Cabo St Lucas. Waves rhythmically lapping against the shore as the margarita laps over the salted rim of your glass, passing your lips, and exciting your taste buds with such persuasion that you start thinking I'm a lot more of a beach goddess than you had ever anticipated! 

Oh alcohol if only you could work that well. 

I mean it's bloody marvelous at pulling the wool over your eyes and I know it lowers the inhibitions and all, making you a confident motherfucker who once wasted is game for anyone. But that pretty little thing you were dancing with the night before becomes an ugly giant thing over night. Over night I said, and i'll say it again: over night. Less than 24 hours and that ethanol charm has worn off. Your eyes, once opened are working perfectly again. Making her somewhat unrecognisable 'Who the...? Did we...? Did I...?' Your brain too is on the road to recovery and becomes your brutally honest friend. 'Yes. Yes you did.' And your balance and co-ordination become deadly accurate. No need for provocative leaning when there's no-one there to provoke right? Right. I'd bet your bottom dollar you'd rather roll out of bed than straddle her head. So let's be honest alcohol might be able to cast a short term spell that brings short term happiness and sexy time, but it's a liquid and not the plastic surgeon/personal trainer/stylist you might wish for now and again. Just saying!

Annnnnnd now I sound like a whore!

Pahahaha I wish. No seriously I do. You wait in a few years time I'll make an announcement that this blog is changing it's title and 'The Useless Whore' will be born. Fresh out of slutville and you'll be tuning in to read about how I get my leg over on a regular basis. Bring it.

The sad truth is that I got carried away with thoughts of cocktails and beach goddesses and you and me in paradise, and there it was, a paragraph on blinding yourself with alcohol and bedding uglies. I'm not even one of those shallow fools that only sleep with good looking girls anyway. Ok maybe I am. But I think it's a phase! Not a bad phase mind you. I mean I'm probably more than capable of loving someone that looks like the love child of Marilyn Manson and Amy Winehouse. I just might need to hit the bottle that's all. I'm joking of course. Who needs alcohol when you can just close your eyes. No seriously though I am joking.  I'm not that pretentious. My heart is as big as the last ugly fat girl I woke up to. I'd have you all if I could.

Let me take it from 'you and me in paradise' because as mentioned I seem to have been mildly distracted and the visuals swirling around my British brain aren't too pretty right now. Yes Cabo with any of you (non)beauts would be divine but I'm in London and though today has been particularly beautiful the chill is enough to pop each one of my exotic fantasy bubbles. Bring on Summer.

The reason for me quoting from Phil (Big Drums) Collins was particularly aimed at the 'Oh think twice...' for I've decided that this blog would benefit from some sort of structure. A term that I rarely find used in my day-to-day life so I'm going to have to pull out all the stops for this one. I'm good like that. Therefore...drum roll if you please Phil...you can now catch up with your daily dose of uselessness and all thing remotely lesbian every fortnight! Ain't that a treat?! And what better day to post than Sunday Funday. The funnest day of them all. Agree to disagree.

I swear we have loads to catch up on. I mean you really don't know too much about me at present unless you are keeping up to date with my Twitter. In which case you probably know far too much already. For some reason Twitter for me is like telling the world everything I'd normally keep to myself. It's like I'm narrating my own life despite having always wanted Dawn French to do so. In fact that's an idea, they should have celebrity voiceovers as a tweet option. I'd love to have Sarah Silverman repeating my tweets when called upon. No doubt those technical wizards in Bill Gates basement are already on to it. In fact Ben Stiller is probably in a sound booth right now, as we speak, as he speaks too. Well in actual fact he's probably en route to Hollywood for the Oscars. Tux Deluxe. But hey it was an idea!

I think I'd opt for Christopher Walken actually. He'd be a perfect tweet narrator...tweetator! Just perfect. Plus he's one of my beloved all time favourites. See you're learning more about me already. There's a whole lot more of where that came from. I've got a deadline in place now. I'll be back soon. I might even give you a few bonus blogs to tide you over and bring you up to speed. I might not. Oooh a touch of mystery to spice things up. I like what I did there.

I hope you are all enjoying your Sunday. I do believe it is red-carpet-fever all round. Oh and talking of carpets, before I go, I apologise for the lack of carpet, rug, or how can I put this PUSSY in this post. I'll make sure there's double next time. And who doesn't want double pussy? I think I just heard you smile. Don't worry I won't be telling your wife, she don't have to know, your secrets safe with me.

Until next time, whenever that might be!

Useless.xx