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piplarkin's Blog on WriteWords
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Dear Kitty,
I love you. I thought you were mine alone.
But now I hear something about you being nominated in the Manchester Blog Awards
I’m stunned. Who are these people? What do they know of your witty fonts or your enchanting hypertext links or the way your hair curls over your polo neck just so?
I don’t want to share you. I can’t. I won't. Not after what happened with my last girlfriend.
So I’m afraid it has come to this: give them up or the dog gets it.
Your No 1 Fan
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Dear Kitty,
I think people should have to apply for a license before they are allowed to speak.
Either that or be banned from using such disgusting words in my presence.
I'm not talking about swearing here, I'm talking creepy words. Words which, when I hear then, make me break out in a cold sweat.
This is not a new thing. I have never, for instance, been fond of the word moist. Or mucus. I fail to see why anyone should need to use these words in general conversation, but they do. The fiends.
Then, the other day, the absolute worst happened. My colleague said the phrase "toe cleavage." I had to leave the room.
It's even worse when I listen to the radio. Yesterday, Insomnia by Faithless came on. “Ripping off tights with my teeth” ? Excuse me whilst I lose my lunch. I’m all for freedom of speech, but some people just take it too far. Have they no ear for language? Don’t they understand that words are meant to be beautiful? Why are they doing this to me?
I mean, toe cleavage. How sick is that?
Delicate, Bodleian library Read Full Post
Dear Kitty,
So, dating is evil. Who knew?! There I was, comfily ensconced in my ho-hum relationship and nobody told me that if I decided to call it quits I would be entering a whole new world of pain and stilted conversations about data mining.
I heard that if someone has the guts to ask you out then you should grant them one date, whoever they are, because you just do not know who is going to turn out to be your perfect man. But it’s horrendous! I go for dinner and there’s zero chemistry and you know that you don’t want to see the guy again and, due to the whole zero chemistry thing, you’re pretty certain he won’t want to either but NO! He calls up the next day and asks when can we do it again!
I have perfected the noise ‘hmmmmmfff’ as the middle ground between 'yes' and 'no.' I have taken to call screening. Is having them killed an extreme solution?
Dating Demon, BristolRead Full Post
Dear Kitty,
People say that time heals all wounds. And we have the recordable DVD now, right? So why can’t someone invent a fast forward button you can press after a break up? A year if you want to think about dating other women. Three months if you want to hear her name without feeling sick. Two weeks if you want to stop obsessively calling her house and hanging up.
Great idea, no? All of this is just dead time anyway since I’m just dragging my body around, not eating, not working, not sleeping, not listening to any conversation if it isn’t about her.
Okay, so maybe a fast forward button is unrealistic. How about cryogenic freezing? Or cloning? Or, I mean, is it too much to ask that my dentist put me into a coma until the urge to park outside her workplace has gone? (Apparently it is, but the Constable was very understanding.)
Maybe I should just stick to the original plan: spend the next six months drunk with a notice round my neck saying ‘sober me up in 2010’? The cryogenic freezing would be better on my liver, that’s all.
Fed Up, BurnleyRead Full Post
Dear Kitty,
I think I may have fallen out of love with my city.
I used to adore it. And I know that it still has some wonderful attributes. But I just can’t see them. All the things I loved about it just irritate me now. I don’t get those butterflies I used to. Every morning I wake up and it just seems ordinary and boring and annoyingly predictable.
Also, I’ve been seeing somewhere else.
So far it’s just been the odd weekend, but I think I might be developing feelings. I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m checking estate agents websites and practicing writing my address and having these elaborate fantasies about how happy we could be together.
I don’t know what to do. Should just call it quits with my home town and move to this new, fabulous place? Or am I crazy to give up something steady and reliable for some flashy city I hardly know?
Searching, location undisclosedRead Full Post
Dear Kitty,
I’ve just moved into a smart new flat and want to liven up the walls. I found a great print of the “Dodge This” moment in The Matrix but my best friend tells me no. She says if I put that poster up on my wall, no woman will ever strip naked in my living room again.
Can this be true? I thought it was cool. I mean, I know the sequels were pretty abysmal, but I reckon the original film stands up to scrutiny.
Eamon, St AndrewsRead Full Post
Dear Kitty,
Since my ex left me at the altar, I’ve become addicted to horoscopes. I have a few trusted suppliers: Shelley Von Strunckel; Jonathan Cainer; Russell Grant…ah Russell, I have warmed to your cuddly charms.
Is it wrong to wait up until 12.01am to get my horoscope for the next day? Wait, don’t answer that.
Okay, do.
Because I’m afraid it’s getting out of hand. I refer to the Mercury retrograde in polite conversation. I’m tempted to ring a premium rate phone line for my annual report. And last week I called up my ex because Jonathan Cainer told me to. Well, he said: “You are due to make a breakthrough in your personal life” which amounts to the same thing, right?
Wait, don’t answer that.
Okay, do.
Starstruck, Brighton
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Dear Kitty,
Are people really, truly, meant to manage their own lives?
Because, frankly, I don’t see how. Mine feels like a job share where the other employee’s gone AWOL with the keys to the filing cabinet.
As time goes on, the list of things I don’t know how to do just gets longer, while the can-do list grows ever-more irrelevant since, aged 26, no-one’s particularly interested that I can do a one-handed cartwheel.
I don’t get it. How does everyone else know how to do life? Did I miss a memo?
Baffled, BoltonRead Full Post
Dear Kitty,
I’m seeing this new man who adores me. He takes me on expensive holidays. He strokes my hair. Sometimes, when we’re sitting there on the sofa, he’ll look at me as though I’m the most wonderful thing in the world. It’s fantastic!
Okay, it’s kind of annoying.
Worse: last week I got a call from the ex. The one who wouldn’t hold my hand in public. The one who told people we were just friends even when we were having mind-blowing sex. The one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. He says that he misses me and that we should get married because he thinks I’ll be good for him.
Six months ago I dreamed about this every night. Now I don’t know what to do. My stomach is all topsy-turvey. I’ve broken out in a rash. I can’t look my new man in the eye.
Why now?
Sarah, KentRead Full Post
Dear Kitty,
I tried to finish with my girlfriend yesterday but somehow It didn't work out. I told her all the reasons that we weren’t right for each other but she just countered every argument, promised that things would improve, and now we’re engaged.
How did this happen?
Graham, ManchesterRead Full Post
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