A Coffee Church and A Prezzie For My Sister...

I want a motorbike. No bones about it, I want one. A big thunking black one. A shiny big thunking black one so that I can use it to squish hedgehogs and small children. Motorbikes are sexy, I am sexy, therefore I should have a motorbike.

Of course, learning to drive would be a good idea. But I can't be arsed. I have a father, he has a car, thus I have my own chauffeur and limosene service. Course the limosene is a Ford Escort and the chauffeur won't wear a black hat when chugging me around town, but the service is there.

But really, I'm 22, all my mates can drive. course none of my mates have a motorbike, I'd be the coolest cat in the casba.

On to other topics. The coffee machine was reincarnated. Like Jesus. There was no great round rock or angels or the like, but I think it's begun to accumulate apostles. The teacups look slightly more humble, and the father was gazing at it with unhealthy adoration. I hoped that perhaps it could turn water into wine, but alas, when I put water in it all that came out was coffee. Just watch, some day soon there will be a Church of Coffee Worshipers, of which the coffee maker is the first pope, and religious nuts will make pilgrimages to my kitchen. Instead of bread and wine there will be coffee and Rich Tea biscuits. The teabags look homicidal.

Of course it came back to life when my hankering for coffee had subsided. I am firmly back on the good ship HMS Teabag. We are sailing the seven milky seas, searching for buried sugar. I am the Captain, I wear a PG Tips pyramid teabag as a hat and rule my crew with an iron mug. So far my crew consists of one, but I'm holding interviews next thursday at the community centre, if interested bring a CV and a teapot.

I also have a gift for my little sister, EMMA ARE YOU WATCHING!!!!!

I dedicate this picture to my little sister. Emma dear, you know you like it, I can't be the only pervert in the family.

Oohhoo hoo, I love yaoi. lovelovelovelove.

This pic is one of my favs, it does strange things to my delicates. Yes, I am mentally ill, but I love it. If guys can get off on lesbians, I can get off on randy boys fucking other randy boys. It's only natural. And it feeds my love of threesomes in which I am the only one there with a uterus.

And Emma, I can see you shaking your head and looking horrified, stop it, you have always known I am a filthy bint, you store all of the knowledge of my debauched life. When I die of some hideous disease I am trusting you to write my life story. You can't write, but the story should make up for that which you lack. It will be X-rated, but you'll make a mint. With the cash I want you to erect a fifteen foot statue of me in the back garden to honour my memory.

And don't forget that you have to keep my eyeballs in a box on the mantel piece.

Anyway, the pornish pixie is off to drink more tea and watch some hentai. Just kidding about the hentai part... okay no I'm not, but don't tell my mother.