To Swear Or Not To Swear I'm not ashamed to admit it but I do like to swear...... It has got me thinking though why do I swear? Does it make me feel better? More importantly how do I pick that one (or sometimes several in my case) swear word that best suits the mood that I am in? For me swearing is most definitely cathartic, it provides me with a chance to vent all my anger or frustration that I am feeling. Some may argue that its not the most eloquent way to express oneself, however I feel that sometimes a few choice expletives goes down a treat. Swearing can also signify a range of emotions from joy to surprise, from sadness to 'Holy shit what the fuck are you wearing!?' Here is a biggie. How do you choose what word to use and when? Such things need to be considered, for example what sort of company are you surrounded by? What is the social setting? How pissed are you? People are much less likely to use the 'better' swear words at work for fear of recrimination, however generally speaking in my experience all the fun words tend to come out to play when I'm surrounded by my friends, and the Jagerbombs are a flowing. I've also noticed that girls in particular when it comes to boys treat swearing a little like breaking wind. Its a big fat no no until you have securely got them under your thumb and there is no escape. Quick tip... Swearing can be used to achieve a specific reaction from others. By swearing you are injecting a direct and succinct emotional component into any discussion that you happen to be a part of. Imagine that you want to comment on an event, a play or gig for example. Which of the two sounds better? 'That gig was awesome!' 'That gig was fucking awesome!' Be honest. I know which one I would rather see. The addition of the swear word only emphasises the emotional reaction towards the event - and it easily conveys the emotional reaction to others in the conversation. Virtually everyone swears, and with brilliant consistency. From the day we open our gummy little baby mouths we are gearing up for that first swear word. We test them, roll our tongues around the tasty little taboo nuggets. We eventually take them for granted and pepper all of our sentences, just for added flavour mind. Its a part of human speech development. It knows no social boundaries and is universal to us all. Nice to know that we all have that is common at least. Swearing like milk is brilliant. People may think that swearing is crude and unladylike. I however will tell them to piss off because I like to think of swear words as sentence enhancers. So there.

My Mouth And Brain Appear To Have Fallen Out With Me So I have so far been on two and a half dates with tall dark and handsome, and so far things do seem to be going really rather well. This is of course apart from the small fact that yet again I proved myself to be a big idiot in the conversation department. Its almost like I can hear brain cells popping on an almost second to second basis when around him. The other day one of my friends asked me what type of car he drove, to which I responded in my most matter of fact voice. 'A white one'. I dont bloody know these things because: A Im not a driver. B Cars do not interest me. Finally C All of the above. So when we went on the date that I like to think of a 'half date' (it was a couple of cokes in a pub before I started work) I asked him what type of car he had. Nevermind the fact that I had just been sat in the friggen thing and could have looked myself! Lazy bitch! Now this where my mouth took it upon itself to go for a wee jog, (I say wee jog - it went for a fuck off run into the distance, with slim to none chance of returning any time soon.) and not even contemplate letting my brain come and join in on the conversation. Why would I want to to something as sensible as engaging my brain, when I can just whitter away like the complete plant pot I am rapidly turning into? He told me that he drove an Alfa Romeo Giulietta and said that it is named after a woman, to which I replied ' Now I know you are Italian but Alfa Romeo is just a weird name for a girl' Really Charlotte?? Have a bloody word with yourself!! Oh but unfortunately there wasnt anytime for me to have a word with myself as my mouth apparantly wanted to carry on chatting shit. Tall Dark And Handome 'No its Giulietta thats the girls name' Me ' Oh thats more like it' (I bloody know that Giulietta is a girls name, regardless of how its spelt.) 'Why is it spelt differently?' Tall Dark and handsome ' Because there is not a J in the Italian language' Me ' Ohhhh.....so how do you spell Google then?' (WTF!!!!! Charlotte you complete bloody idiot Google is spelt with a G not a J!! I do know this people. Honest to god could I be any more idiotic?) As it turns out. Yes. Yes I could. On the way back from date number two, we happened to drive past a field with a multitude of sheep in them. They had all been sheared and were all frolicking about in their little field. Luckily the comment that I made next appeared to had gone unheard, either that or he was beginning to ignore me due to the fact that I was dropping IQ points more rapidly than Snoop Dogg drops it like its hot..... Me ' why are there loads of dogs in that field? Can you rear dogs in a field like you would sheep?' Luckily I was met with the silence that a ridiculous comment like that deserved. I think that maybe the next date, if he is stupid enough to want to go on another date that is should involve maybe a film, that way I can sit in silence and not make a complete twat out of myself. I can sit there looking pretty..... well not so much as its been pointed out by tall dark and handsome that I tend to pull faces quite a lot. Awesome. Not only am I coming across as quite possibly the dizziest person since Paris Hilton, but I am gurning more times than bloody Anne Woods. I dont even know that I'm pulling faces half the time. My brain and my mouth are currently engaged in some sort of conflict, and now my face wants in on the party? What next? I can just see my legs deciding that they want to break out the Riverdance moves without telling my brain, and before I know It I will be blooming Michael Flatleying it all over the place. I am really starting to despair of the lack of connection that I have with my face, my brain and my mouth at the moment. They appear to be talking a foreign language and don't understand each other. I certainly don't understand any of what's going on, however by the looks of things I don't understand much. Other than the fact that I am a complete idiot.

The Nowhere Man The sound of music came from the mists of time, almost as if born from them. A sobbing melody so lovely it brought tears to her eyes, She cried for the song was to heart wrenching to be mortal. The shining man appeared from the mists, A multiple being with an infinite number of selves. An aura of power surrounded him, power that whispered of a thousand ages, and as a face of cruel beauty regarded her she was struck by something timeless in his eyes. As his gaze caressed her his eyes were electric, a blue like flashing lightening. He was beautiful and terrifying to gaze upon. Her mind felt detached from her body, she was a puppet, a marionette whose strings he deftly manipulated. In her mind she could hear time slipping away, but the clocks continued ticking. She pulled her gaze from eyesore perfect ice, but each movement was another risk another trap to prevent her escape. After a timeless struggle powerful hands gripped at her throat and the breath was torn from her mouth. Overwhelming tremors ran the length of her body until her final spasm was exhausted. Her expression slowly dissolves, where there was terror emptiness remains. She keeps her visions to herself.

The Date That Turned Me Into A Complete Moron So I went out on a date last night. Yes people I actually went out on a date. Now for those of you that know me are well aware of how I feel when it comes to dating, and boys blah blah blah. I never ever chat up boys unless Im drunk, and then usually get bored after five minutes. I'm a bit mental so tend to scare many a boy away quite quickly. I like to think that I am too busy to have time for relationships, I think it may well be just laziness on my part. I don't do relationships because of all the effort involved. Plus previous relationships have been awful... Hang on no let me get this correct. They have been so fucking awful that I've considered being a nun, I soon rectified this thought however when I realised that my boobs in a habit would not exactly be a match made in heaven. Much like me and boys. Its not that I hate boys. I in fact love boys in all their glory. the way they look, smell, feel, all that sort of other girly stuff, but the though of being in a relationship with one, well frankly it just freaks me the fuck out. I have been asked out on dates before, and I've said yes before. What I tend to do next is the thing that all my friends tell me off for... I cancel the date. I know I know!! I don't know why I do it but I do. Fear of not liking them? fear of them not liking me? being a total knobhead? All of the above. See how the last thought has no question mark? Its because its not a question. That's because I think I already know the answer before the date has even happened. No Charlotte you are not psychic, psychotic maybe but most definitely not psychic. This time however I didn't cancel..... I've known this boy since I was about seventeen. I'm thirty three now. I used to fancy the pants of this boy like you wouldn't believe, I was quite shy and never did dare tell him that I liked him. I thought that he was way to cool to fancy me. He was Italian, dark hair, dark eyes, tall - just gorgeous! Then there was me. Bright red hair, huge platforms, and a personality that would worry any psychiatrist. It was safe to say that I thought that he would never look at me twice. He didn't. Not until a few years later that is when I saw him in a nightclub, I was quite drunk so was feeling all brave and cooler than a penguins bum. Oh yeah I was the shizzle that night! We had a cheeky little snog until my friend told him off for kissing me and dragged me away!! Bye bye tall dark and handsome bye bye!! I had not heard from the tall dark and handsome one until recently. There I was doodling around on Facebook as you do when a message pops up. Imagine my surprise when it was him!! We chatted for a while about stuff we had both been up to, you know small talk. He asked me out for lunch but I was in the middle of uni work so we never got around to meeting up. Anyway the chat continued and before long he decided to tell me that he used to fancy me, and I mean really fancy me. What the fuck!!?? Gobsmacked speechless, dumbfounded, a tiny bit excited... woah hang on there a tiny bit excited?? I needed a quick word with myself. 'Right Charlotte sort your head out now you silly girl' However the chat continued, and I dont know how he did it but he managed to wangle my number out of me, he must have used some sort of weird Derren Brown mind trickery on me, as I never give my number out. Another word was seriously needed, but this time of a more stern nature. 'Right you silly bitch watch this Italian one, he is a smoothie - stay alert' We played some serious text tennis, so much so that the battery on my phone began to cry at the sheer abuse and battery (ha battery!!) it was receiving. A date was finally set for us to go out. Bear in mind that I hadn't seen the tall dark and handsome one since I was a mere eighteen or nineteen. He had obviously seen pictures of me on Facebook, but photos can lie, hello Photoshop! Plus what if this memory that he had of me from way back when was one of those Rose tinted ones? and when he finally met up with me again he was not just disappointed but completely horrified? All this ran through my tiny little mind at such an alarming rate that I needed to sit down. No what I needed was a fag. So there I sat smoking and a thinking. Thinking and a smoking. Obviously the thinking part wasn't on par that day as not once did I think to cancel the date. What the hell was wrong with me? What did that mean? Why the hell aren't cigarettes longer? So on the date I went and well it was.... it was.... lovely! I had a really really brilliant time! I just enjoyed the night very much. That is until he dropped me off at home. That's when it all went Pete Tong. I turned into the biggest idiot this side of The Only Way Is Essex. I'm not normally stupid but I knew it was the end of the night and that a goodnight kiss was looming in the air, but who would make the first move? Tall dark and handsome or me? Arrrggghhhh the pressure!!! Tall dark and handsome was talking about the colour Rosso (did I mention he is Italian?) its goes like this..... Me -' Ah so you mean like Martini Rosso?' Him -' No like the colour' (just for the record I normally know Rosso means red, just not at this moment, I was nervous.) Me - 'Its a colour? Well its not like I speak Italian, so it means Red?' Him - 'Well what do you think Bianco means?' (I normally know what Bianco means too) Me - (A really really long pause)' Aaaaah it means white doesn't it?! Its weird that because its not like Martini Rosso is a red drink is it?' ( It is a red drink, I know this, I work in a bar for crying out loud!) At this point he burst out laughing and told me I was a cutie. A friggen idiot more like. I decided on that bombshell to quit while I was ahead and go. So I sort of mumbled that I was going and leant in for a kiss with one hand on the door handle, so I could make a quick exit just in case he jumped away in horror. He didn't. We had a lovely lovely kiss and off I skipped home. Yes I skipped. Shut up it was nice, so there. We have spoken since, and some exceedingly brilliant text messages have been exchanged. Date number two has been arranged. I've a bit of jaw ache if I'm honest from all the smiling. What the fuck is wrong with me? Tall dark and handsome I blame you, just you wait till I see you next you are getting a big fat... kiss.

Shoe Poo There are lots of little things in this #life, that cause you trouble, that cause you strife, Theres not a lot you can say or a lot that you can do, Once shoe poo happens to you, It sneaks up on you when you are least expectin it, Its crafty little monkey that sneaky shoe shit, It smacks you in the face when you trying on a pretty dress, And makes you look a right minging mess, I hate that meanie that crafty shoe turd, It always has to have the blooming last word, I has a laugh when your at the bar for a Stella, And the last pint has been drunk by another fella, Im not happy with that horrid little poo, Now that its soiled my once pretty shoe, It giggles when your face has the massivest spot, The night before a date with someone totally hot, It makes me emotional and my knuckles go white, How I loathe that little bastard shoe shite, It merrily chuckles when your on a job interview, And you come actross as a right stupid daft old moo, Ooo I want to batter that trotter shoe crap, As it comes and dumps itself in your lap, Shoe poo is mean and rude and not my friend, When will this eternal war ever end? Ive come to realise that shoe poo always conquers, And eventually will end up driving me totally bonkers!!