Second miracle this evening just happen, the first one was obvious that I had yet another wank….

I was just reading House Goodkeeping in my bed and no do not ever ask me why a magazine like that is doing in our house, to long story….

Anyway I must say that the magazine has solved me to yet again have a sleepless night due to the power of a microwave.

At work we have 900W microwaves but most micro available food you buy at the supermarket just have cooking instructions up to 800W or 850W at the most so I am always a bit concern when I heat my food at work, do I do it too long or too short?

Answer is according to Good Housekeeping:

Say you have a 900W microwave and your instructions call for cooking the food in a 650W microwave for 6 minutes. Multiply 650 by six, then divide the resulting number by 900, which gives a new cooking time of 4.3min.

Ehhh me thing Good Housekeeping is the new Bible!
Link to this | Contact me |

I can’t believe this but despite all the wanks I had today I still manage to do it one more time, I mean anyone who says that life isn’t full of surprise I would like to say….

Reality check!!!

Saying that it’s time for me to grab my iPod and sod off to bed, of course I will set my iPod on repeat whilst it is playing “Travelin’ Thru” with Dolly, the them song of my life at the moment…

Hmm better stop before people accuse me for going full on “Mariah-Carey-I –am-having-a-nervous-breakdown-and-therefor-I-will-post-it-on-my-webpage” behaviour….

So tipsy and happy, or if I should be honest and make a statement here I would like to say:

I Marcus hereby admit that I did steal a tiny bit of “Happy Veg” of my mate to roll a “Space Gherkin”, and that is why I am like I am at the moment......

Over and out, night, night!
Link to this | Contact me |

Okay, I need help…….no seriously I neeeed help!!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!!!!!

I had a wanking marathon today Saturday, I don’t know how many times I touched myself , I don’t know how many litres of poppers I have sniffed in my loneliness, I don’t know many things here in life but one thing I do know is….

There is no more spunk left in this Swedish guy!

Anyway I was actually suppose to go into city this evening, yes Soho was on the Saturday schedule ( I know me leaving my room during the weekend are you crazy?? Saying that I did enter our kitchen a few weekends ago as there were no more wallpaper left in my room to chew on), or at least that’s what I thought but as I have not been out on town for quite some time the place to hang at the moment is all of a sudden according to my friends Notting Hill……

Now for me to travel from south of the river to that part of London well that is just plain silly to suggest……..

As silly as expecting my ever so disturbed and “not in reality” family would ever entirely leave me alone once and for all!!

Jesus Christ, if only Dolly or Sharon would be my mother, of what a lucky smiley man I would be……..

Anyway……….

Yet another Saturday evening and I am here on my own drinking vodka Coke and completely dried out of sperm, I’m a bit tipsy to be honest but luckily not as disturbed as Liza, Miss M!

And if I should be completely honest here I do feel a bit blue, or if I should be really completely honest I feel very low, not because of me and myself cuz I am in general in a good place.

No I feel for some other people in my life, and I wish I could do something for them but I don’t know what to do to make it better for all of us.

Despite that I always said that crying is good for you, that it is actually the best remedy to feel better about yourself, I have not done that for a very long time, but about three months ago or something I did find myself sobbing away, not loud and drama but silent and classy like precious little princess I am.

I know, I know….me crying silently…..after all anyone who knows me knows I can cry out loud and clear, I mean I was almost the one that at one point here in life started to sobbing hysterically whilst watching a Bailey commercial and if my mate would ask me:

-Marcus, why are you so upset?

I would say:

-It reminds me so much of my ex partner!

-Oh sorry, I didn’t realize you drank so much Baileys together, my friend would reply

-That is the whole point we didn’t that’s why it’s so upsetting, that during our period together we never had one of those special Baileys moment as a couple to share!

But these days no I do not cry over my own palaver or my own “it-doesn’t-go-exactly-the-way-I want”. No I mostly get sad about my friends who need to go through shitty times.

So the tears for the last three months are due to loved people in my world, that I don’t want anything bad to happen to, and it has and to make it even worse I actually might have something to do about it, and that is somewhat hard for me deal with.

See you throw me any kind of obstacle here in life and I can assure that I will bounce that straight back into the gutter of your soul, I will not give you the pleasure for you to see me giving up, but if you do hurt people that I consider my friends I swear to God I will fight as I hard as I get to make sure you burn in hell!

So here I am feeling blue and sad and with some tears in my eyes and I wonder……

Do I cry do of guilt or because I really do care??

PS. Is this blog somewhat depressing or??
Link to this | Contact me |

Are you tired? Rundown? Listless? Do you poop out at parties? Are you unpopular? Well the answer to all your problems is in this little bottle. Vitameatavegamin. That's Vita-meata-vegamin………

So there I was happy on a pill and life, despite it was the last night of Queer Nation down at Sub Station in Brixton not to mention that it was the farewell party for my dear friend Hobbit who had decided to travel the world for a year to show off his ring to as many men as possible when another very dear friend of my mine leaned over and said something in the line of:

-Marcus, I think we need to hook up and have a chat.

Since I knew or at least was pretty sure what he wanted to talk about I replied quickly:

-Listen I know you and quite a few of your other friends wants me to get a man and settle down, but you see…

-No that’s not what I meant, I want to talk about you being depressed!

Now making Marcus speechless is pretty hard if I may say so but all of a sudden I found myself in state where gob smacked was just my middle name so all I could say was:

-Me, depressed??

-Well you are, my dear dear bloody dear friend replied.

Not sure what happened after that but next thing I know I am standing on the dance floor next to another good friend of mine and screaming down the poor old blokes ear what my other friend told me, the guy just looks at me smiling and says:

-I could have told you that!

Before he turns around and continues disco dancing.

So I went up to my friend that dropped the less happy bomb on me and said:

-Listen I can’t be depressed, actually I know I’m not depressed cuz I can’t feel I am depressed, in a slightly neurotic tone.

-That is the whole point, many times people don’t know that they are depressed.

At this time my pills had sent me off to happy heaven so I couldn’t be arsed to even discuss the whole nonsense since I was there to have fun.

The day after I went for a coffee with another of my best mates and I told him about the previous night and how these friends of mine didn’t think I was biggest ray of sunshine on the scene, and ended up asking my third mate what he thought, and he replied:

-Well I have been concerned quite a lot if I should be honest.

-Why?

-You gone from Mr. Sociable to someone who sitting in your room and hardly ever leaves it during weekends, you don’t go out clubbing that much anymore and basically keep you to yourself most of the times.

Since these friends of mine are people who’s opinions and thoughts I highly do respect and listens to I have of course spent a lot of time the last months to question myself. I have analyzing my behaviour, trying to figure out the reality and truth, and I can honestly say that I still don’t believe that I ‘m depressed and that I do say with almost 95 percent certainties.

Just because one choose not to change ones underwear for half a year or more and one might grind half a kilo of Prozac in ones serials each morning not to forget that one might mix spray mount and petrol just to inject it analy to see if one survive, one immediately do get judge by loved ones to be depressed!

Yes I have changed and yes I have retrieved myself for the last year or so but my theory is completely different than my dear friends.

Anyone who knows me will probably say that I like to talk, anything from to complete and utterly palaver to complete and full on utterly palaver, but facts are that my job is tiring me out so much so when the weekends come I don’t have that much energy left quite frankly.

Due to this I have taken a more passive role when it comes to socialize not just because I don’t have the energy for it but also save my friends from a less fun Marcus to hang with, me almost thinking that I am doing them a favour.

You don’t need to be Einstein to my job but it is very tiring since all I do is communicate all the time. All I do is talk, and then talk and then talk some more. I sincerely don’t think I am quiet for more than half a minute at the most before I need to talk again. If I don’t leave my office on my lunch I still get approached by staff at my job asking questions, or chatting away about something, it doesn’t even matter if I go up to the attic, bury my head in a book, newspaper, magazine or shove my head into a pit black plastic bag, I still have to communicate.

Facts are also that I am not 25 anymore, I have reached the age of 36 and even though some people keeps on partying in the same phase like their teenage year, maybe I do not belong to that group. It’s not that I all of a sudden don’t like clubbing anymore, but I have not the same interest to do it every single weekend.

Further on when I sit in my room or spend time with myself I am a very happy and calm person. I don’t just hang on my own feeling down and unhappy, I don’t feel blue I don’t cry. I am very at ease to just watch a DVD, read a book, play a game but I am a person who need me me me time that is just how I work.

I guess I see myself as the Swedish J-Lo, I need my space basically…….

The third reason for my so called depressed behaviour is due to the simple fact that my financial state is absolutely fucked so even if I wanted to go out every weekend I just simply couldn’t do it.

I might of course be completely wrong here and is actually need of a family jar of Prozac a day but honestly I do think that it comes down to that I am actually getting more comfortable in my own skin, and maybe too comfortable according to some of my friends.

However until I get that extremely well paid dream job of mine, the one where I work with a bunch of mute and paralyzed children that are locked up in sound safe bunker with me sitting outside with my iPod on full volume chilling, this is the way I am going to be I’m afraid!

Of course I could try to push myself and get out a bit more because no man is going to shag a depressed homo sitting in his room making wedding dresses as my dear friend Mr. Hobbit so nicely put it the other day.
Link to this | Contact me |

When I woke up Thursday two weeks ago I felt like shit, truly fucking shit. Not cuz the massive hangover I was suffering from due to yet another traditional Wednesday evening at work full of alcohol (this time it was even worse since we had some event organizer over who constantly made sure we had one of their lethal but oh so ever fruity and colourful drinks in our hands).

No the hangover I can deal with, face it it’s a more of a normal state I wake up in these days than say sober?

The reason for my shitty state was that I had finally had my biggest hizzy fit in life, not only that but I had it at the perfect place called work.

I truly love my boss and most of my colleagues (oh come on, not even Jesus loved all his apostles), most of us works hard but we having such a laugh with each other. Saying that my role has become two roles since I have got more and more responsibilities that I didn’t have to begin with. Now I love working, so normally I wouldn’t complain but since I was hired as a switch bitch basically and all the new tasks are things that needs to be done away from my desk, a desk I can not leave during my working hours it has become increasingly hard for me to do a good job and extremely frustrating.

Many of my friends and the colleagues I do care about have told me that I should talk to my boss regarding this issue, but this is where the problems really occurred due to two main reasons. Firstly my boss is a veryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy lovely lady and very nice, and despite she is a hard core business woman who is burning with passion for her business she also do run the company a bit with a family attitude. This means that according to me some member of staff do abuse her kindness, as in basically go in and throw some lie that they been head hunted, or demand a pay rise, promotion you name it, and they will do it and in that way do get their way on many occasions. I didn’t want to come across like that plus that I strongly do believe that you get promoted if you deserve it so if I am any good, well that issue should sort itself out pretty much automatically.

Second main reason is due to one of my really bad habits…….

When I was together with my ex (yes still David….listen I’m the Lonely Witch like the lovely Andy put it so nicely the other day), he used to say that he hated that I couldn’t really be frank about how I felt on many occasions. What he meant was that when it was so damn obvious that I was pissed off with him, he would ask what was wrong and I most of the times replied:

-NOTHING!!

And same thing at work, when people ask me how I am, I most of the times go:

-GREAT!!

Me thinking that by not making a big fuss about it, it will pass and no one will suffer. However the reality is that not only do people around you get completely miss informed about your feelings or what makes you upset, and therefore will not change their behaviour, you as in me here suffer enormously, cuz that anger and irritation have to bugger of somewhere and in my case it just keeps building up until it burst like the biggest infected spot an ugly teenager can suffer from.

And that was what happens last Thursday at work…….

What trigger me off was so ridicules that I am so ashamed of myself, but it was based on the same thing that always pisses me off at work and that is that so many people do not listen when you give them vital information. And like in most cases the ones that usually have to deal with your thunder and piss attitude are the ones you care for, cuz they should according to yourself understand that you can not always be a skip of true joy all the times, and should actually see themselves as blessed to take part of your relaxing neurotic monster persona.

Now to my defence here is that I had informed these two women about what they asked, further on they both know what really pisses me off is just that when people asking things that I have stated in meetings, via email or orally (no I didn’t eat their beavers).

When I got home that night I was fuming like a twin tower on fire, and in my drunken state I decided that the final straw had been drawn.

So with a somewhat unsteadily walk into work I knew what had to be done.

As I was sitting typing my “handing in my notice” email that morning around 8.30AM, my boss walks in and asked me how I was, and I of course said:

-GREAT!!!

And hit the send button.

As she walks up to her office I realizes that she will read that email and me not being a true man (oh come on I take it up the Daim cross for heaven sake) escaped to the street for a double smoking Mayfair session.

All of a sudden my boss turns up on the street and we started to chat what I just done and I explained that despite having so much fun with people at work and loved quite a lot of my working duties, I am after all 36 and a receptionist foremost and being able to say that age and work title in one sentence well that is nothing more than sad.

I agreed to go out with her for a chat after her morning meetings was done, but still I was pretty convinced that nothing would change my mind.

Before that my boss PA took me out for breakfast and we had a really nice talk and everything but still I really couldn’t see myself staying, especially after I actually had handed in my notice, I mean how naff is that?

However during my meeting with my boss she presented me with a job that I really couldn’t turn down, a job that I think that I will enjoy a great deal if I should be honest.

The days after was pretty horrible, I did talk to the women at work and especially one of them and I told her that I don’t think that she respect me that much especially when I am suppose to be her friend at work, she of course disagreed completely but has since then done a few other things that I find pretty weird, but I have come to the conclusion that she don’t do it on purpose and that I shouldn’t really take it personally.

I also experienced that weirdness when you walk into a room full of people and it goes completely silent for two seconds, and it is so obviouse that they are talking about you and then someone says something in the line of:

-I know…ehhh… my sister loves those…ehhh…fishnet stockings from, you know…..ehhh Bulgaria!

First weekend was pretty full of guilt which I cured by being as stoned as possible, God who needs a shrink when there is skunk, huh??

Of course the whole situation do not get any better since some people already think that I seems to get some sort of special treatment from my boss. Now this is so fucking untrue, see you will never see me in her office kissing up, actually I don’t see that much of my boss at all comparing to the rest of the team. When we do speak it is usually about what needs to be done and so on. Quite a few people at work have said to me that I could do anything and she just loves me (I know it’s hard to believe that, but that has been said). However that is not true either, I do get told off but I’m not sure where some people comes from but in my world if your boss tells you to sort something out, you just do it, and you just do it ASAP!! So maybe I do not get into much trouble with my boss, but that is down to that I try my hardest to make sure to do what she asks for.

If that is kissing up, well all I have to say is…..

Your boss is running her/his company, she/ he is paying your rent and for her or he to do so you need to give something back, I mean how fucking hard is that to under stand??

I really don’t think that my boss likes me cuz she just likes me, hopefully she respects me because I try my hardest to do a good job, I respect her, but at the same time my boss is very approachable, as in she is someone I can make a joke with, and I really do hope those are the reasons why she wants me to stay on.

And to be totally honest here I can not see any other reasons, after all I am a 36 year old faggot with a tired face and a way to skinny boy to hang in any Xmas tree to sparkle, so??

However it could be that she is the new Mother Theresa and just feels sorry for me and want to help my little lost soul who knows?

So here I am still feel guilty that I got promoted and pay rise, and it’s not cuz I don’t think I am worth it, but due to the way I got it.

Hopefully in a few weeks time people have stopped gossiping and things will turn back to normal, the only thing I can do for the moment is to go in there and do the best I can do to enjoy my new role, hopefully make a difference to some extent.

If it doesn’t work well at least I tried and after all the deal with my boss is that I do try it out and if I’m still not completely happy in a few months time well then I do leave for real.

In the end I have successfully gained a promotion and a pay rise but on top of that I have also successfully earned a lot of non respectfully attitude with quite a few people at work, after all there I was puking over that member of staff twisted my boss head and quite frankly I look like I done something even much worse.

The saddest thing with the whole story…..??????

Me being 36 and being much excited to have my own office and not have to ask someone to cover the reception to be able to go for a slash!
Link to this | Contact me |

I think now when I am back to reality I can easily admit that the previous blog entrance just proves once and for all that you shouldn’t really write anything when you come home wasted, twated and full on twisted after a looooong night out away from home.

I am truly ashamed of myself I mean how dare I to make such a horrible statement about someone else looks, huh?

I mean fine maybe he had been hit a tiny bit with the ugly stick that night but who am I’m to judge, me the guy who get constantly beaten up with the whole damned tree.

Saying that I still think turd sex is very unappetising!!
Link to this | Contact me |

Isn't it fucking typical that the good looking one flirts with you and then when you are about to leave with this fella his ever so full on ugly boyfriend comes up and says in the strongest Chinese accsent:

-Hi I'm coming with you cus I'm his boyfriend!

And isn't it fucking typical that all of a sudden during having fantastic sex the guy wants you to shoot a turdle on him?

-
Link to this | Contact me |

Je suis très confus pas………

Marcus meet sexy ex fuck buddy (SEFB) a while a go in a bar, they exchange numbers again, Marcus text him and said nice meeting you give me a call if you fancy a hook up, SEFB called him a few days later but left no message on Marcus voicemail, then SEFB text him at 11PM something last Monday asking if he could come over, Marcus thought it was a bit too late especially on a school night and said thanks but no thanks plus Marcus was flu-ish, SEFB replied: Let me know when you are up for it cus I am gagging for it, Marcus text SEFB this Friday evening saying he felt better, SEFB text Marcus Saturday morning at 8.45AM asking if he could come around, Marcus text SEFB when he woke up telling SEFB he had to work but maybe later on that evening, SEFB text him around 4PM same day asking when Marcus thought he would be free, Marcus replied he didn’t know since he was still working but would let SEFB know, however Marcus got shattered and passed out, SEFB text Marcus around 1.30AM Sunday morning saying that he assumed that Marcus was still working, Marcus text SEFB on Sunday at 8AM-ish telling him that he was way asleep when SEFB text him, SEFB replied asking if he could come over but Marcus yet again had to work and told SEFB that he would text him later to see if they could meet up, SEFB text Marcus around 4PM on Sunday afternoon asking if Marcus was free, since Marcus now was in desperate need to get butt hole burgled he replied that if he wanted he could come over around 9PM that night and SEFB replied he would, at 10.10PM Marcus text SEFB asking him if everything was okay since SEFB hadn’t turned up, at midnight Marcus went to bed, when he woke up there was a text from SEFB he sent at 2.01AM on Monday morning saying that he feel asleep and that he just woke up and then asking if it would be too late to come around there & then, Marcus replied today on his lunch hour saying no worries but that he was asleep when SEFB text him, SEFB got back asking what Marcus was up to, so Marcus had to tell him that he was at work, SEFB replied asking if he would be free tonight and at that moment Marcus didn’t know, in the end he wasn’t so SEFB asked him if they could meet up this Wednesday, unfortunately Marcus has plans all this week so the plan are now that SEFB and Marcus will hook up next Sunday……

As I said:

Je suis très confus pas………

I mean Jesus Christ what the fuck do Tush of Danger need to do in this town to get laid??
Link to this | Contact me |

Last year was dreadful when it came to relationships that didn’t work out, not in my case of course since me getting into one in the first place is as easy as getting Kunta Kinte voluntarily return to slavery again!

So many of my friends and people that I know and care for broke up last year, and even if you been in that situation yourself it is damn hard if not impossible to give people advice how to get over the sadness, except that time will heal.

You can of course take the easy route by escaping to some sunny tacky resort to chill, relax and feel good about yourself and if any kind of thoughts about the breakup/ relationship hits your mushy loved up sentimental brain, you just scream to the barman:

-Oi Stavros, poor me another sangria, and don’t you dare to forget the colourful paper umbrella!

But since that is a very short-term resolution Janne & me did come up with this brilliant solution how not to suffer from a breakup or at least suffer less. Cuz in the end of the day it all just comes down to memories so………

Next time do not listen to any kind of music during the relationship, don’t go to any restaurants, bars, clubs together. Refuse to accept any kind of presents or gifts, never get introduced to his/ hers friends, never have sex with him/ her in case he/ she would be any good. Not going on holidays together goes without saying really. And whatever you do, do not call him/ her your boyfriend/ girlfriend and if possible make an effort to never meet him/ her at all in the first place!

And……..

Voila there is the perfect recipe for avoiding a broken heart!
Link to this | Contact me |

Stuff I learnt so far in 2006

To teach an old dog new trick or in my case:

To try to remember whether you got fucked last night without the proof of a cum filled condom next to your bed….

Is pretty much impossible!

If my so-called parents would have known when I was born how hooked I would become to nicotine, the chances are pretty big they would have named me baby Ash Tray.

If I these days would have a healthy relationship with my so-called parents they would probably call me Marcus Mucus.

All Americans do not constantly pick cotton and read the bible.

Most people who push themselves in front of the queues to London buses seems to be fat, and the pushing probably do come down to their fear of not being able to fit in it.

The reason why I am so petrified of cameras is most certainly cuz I wouldn’t be able to cope with printed proofs that I do not look like anything like Linda Evangelista after all.

Now asking a Swede to stop drinking completely is like asking Paris Hilton to find her brain, it just ain’t gonna happen, okay?

It is possible to love someone very dearly even if the person is steeling Easter eggs from dying children.

Gaydar is great when you are “wet” and nowhere to go.

Drinking alcohol modestly will not harm you as long as you don’t end up taking it on like a full time job.

The homeless guy that sleeps outside my job and blocking the entrance is lying when he claims that he lived there for the last 15 years.

There is actually at least one cock here in London that is even too big for poor Geraldine.

My weekends are most of the times these days so quiet that if I would write a blog about them, it would probably go something like this:

Woke up, stayed in my room, went to bed, woke up, thought about going to Tesco but too scary, too many people, went to bed.

If you go without sex for three months you are in risk of overdoing in spit roasts in one night.

If you planning to have children I would highly recommend you to get a serious drug addiction before, cus children are exhausting to deal with. At least try to nibble on some Valium every hour.

When some white sexy guy leans over to you in a bar and whisper in your ear:

-I am blessed like a black man.

He is not talking about his fully lips.

If you apply too much self tanning lotion you might make some poor citizen on the street to think that he is tripping since he will mistake you for a living traffic cone.

Even if you sit next to someone on the bus that do look like a homeless, and is stinking off piss whilst he is stuffing himself with raisins like a cracked out mental patient whilst repeatedly mumbling:

-Argos is best.

He can still have the looks of a true fuckstud.

When one of your best mates is watching himself topless in the mirror and ask you:

-Do you think I am fat?

You shouldn’t really reply:

-Don’t be silly you not fat, just short and wide.

There is absolutely nothing wrong if you love being on your knees and swallow.

Thata three tutas!
Link to this | Contact me |

Now I’m fully aware that I might not be the most clever little cookie that crumbled in the corner cupboard, or however that ridiculous English saying goes, but can someone, just anyone please let me know.......

Where the hell did 2005 fuck off to, huh?

Anyone? A bird?? Don’t need to be a pretty bird......

Lisa Fucking whinging Scott-Lee would easily do right now!!

But I guess she is more of a vulture though, anyway...........

In one of my first blog entrance ever I quoted someone who had said:

What is the point of living, if you don’t feel alive?

Great little life mantra or motivation quote here in life, one of the greatest if you ask me. But as we all know following given advises here in life is not that easy at all times, and I quite frankly failed completely on the one above during last year.

About two months ago or so I was hanging in the bar of Horse Meat Disco, chatting away to a dear friend of mine and I mentioned something about that despite that I thought that 2005 had been a great year I sincerely never want to have another one like that ever again.

Great since I just had realised that yet again I had one of those years that was very interesting and very learning for me on a personal level when it came to the education of life. It was also absolutely shit due to the fact that so far it had been a year when my life just seemed to pass by without me taking any real part of it. I hardly ever took the time out to sit down and reflect on all the things that was happening, and this was due to the total lack of strength and energy.

My friend who knows me very well said that sometimes it is actually good not to think or analyse everything here in life, which I probably do on too many occasions.

However, in my case fact is that 2005 was the year when I was working, working, stressing, stressing, worrying, worrying, running around desperately trying to make sure that no pieces was lost in my jigsaw of life. Not daring to sit down and question myself what I was doing in case I would not be able to face the reality how run down I was. When I did relax I usually locked myself in room with my alcoholic drinks feeling like a mobile phone that was screaming:

Plug me into the bloody socket before my last battery bar finish!

I was house sitting, baby sitting, flat sitting, dog sitting etc. knowing that the only sitting I really needed was to be sitting on a big mutha fucking fat cock and ride myself back into reality or at least out of my somewhat comatose behaviour.

Now the thing is that as I wrote here before I do love stress but last year it got to the point when it went from healthy stress to quite full on insanity. Of course the amount of alcohol that I gulped down my throat did not help my well being, neither did my increasing of fags, there was days when I smoked 60 fags a day.

And all I could think was:

Just wait until next month and then things will change.

Of course something did turn up, usually some job that I couldn’t say no to, so yet another weekend was spent working so I could get some extra cash in my pocket.

And the more stress I dealt with, the more vodka was consumed, and therefor not that much extra dosh in my pockets.

2005 was the year when whether it was good news or bad ones, my reply to myself was always:

-Whatever!

No feelings whatsoever, no real highs, no real lows, nothing, nada. Don’t think I ever felt so non-existing. I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t unhappy. Maybe some people like to be like that but anyone who knows me would probably say that it’s not very me, and I must say I do not enjoy being like that since I need my lows as well as my highs to feel inspired here in life. I got to the point when I had to realise that I had almost stopped caring, maybe not about others but about myself.

When I did get emotional it was usually for the most ridiculous things and completely down to tiredness. Like that late night after work when I cancelled my account with blockbuster online and my eyes was filled with tears after pressing the cancellation button and the screen was filled with a message in big blue letters saying:

Sorry to see you leaving.

On many occasions I felt like such a fake, a complete robot, I was constantly trying to convince myself:

Marcus it’s your life, get involved.

2005 was year when many of my friends went through some rough time, and I must say that I wasn’t very good to be there, which gave me a horrible feeling since I always seems to rely on my friends for support and advises, and more important they never fail to be there.

When I did go out I was pretty tired as it was so it didn’t take me long to get absolutely hammered or trashed ( of course that had nothing to do with how much I consumed!), and when you wake up one morning with someone so freaky looking that even your old mother would look like Barbie herself compared to your shag , then you just know that the time is here to get a grip and get your life back on track.

When November arrived I knew that I got to the point when I had to face that work is not the most important here in life, not only did I seem to take on too much work on my spare time, my full time employment seemed to get more hours all the time.

Only a little bit more than two weeks of January has passed by, but changes have been done for me to feel a bit more involved in my own life. They are not really New Years resolutions, cus I don’t really believe in them since in my case it is just asking for failure and self-disappointments. I see them more of new guidelines to change certain aspects and qualities of my life.

As said earlier it wasn’t a bad year at all, but 2006 is the year when I am determined to enjoy life much more. I don’t have high demands, simple things like lovely spring/ summer evenings leaving Soho after an afternoon chilling and chatting with friends walking home in the sunset. Sunday brunches at some cosy pub, maybe a good book with a nice glass of red in the middle of the week, feeling comfy and relaxed.

Cuz in the end of the day it is about bloody time that Marcus gets back into his fantastic form as the usual scandy sleaze bag who giz his friends when there is a suitable glam bash for them to trash.

After all.....

Being is not the same as existing!

Oh for fuck sake Marcus stop your constant quoting.........
Link to this | Contact me |

So Marcus Poppins was back for one night only due to high demand a while ago.

After doing five ten hours shifts back in the beginning of this year Mr. Poppins had been hit by a pretty big amount of hubris and thought that spending a Saturday night without any alcohol and two kids for approximately five hours would be an easy piecy thing to do. After all he was pretty convinced that he was the new super nanny.

How wrong was he, huh?

But, re-rewind bo selecta to the actual week I spent with these lovely children of the Devil herself, or Marie as the rest of her friends call her.

In general my days looked all the same starting at 7.30 AM. The mother took the daughter to school before she was heading to her crazy world of fashion and left me with the cutest toddler ever, but cute do not under any circumstances mean low maintains.

One of his most annoying habits was that he was absolutely obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine. Due to this I was forced to watch this bloody sad crossed-eyed train turf turf around and saving every little confused obstacle in the village he lives in for at least three hours every morning on DVD. As if that wasn’t enough punishment, the boy himself kept on pointing at the TV every other minute and proudly stringed the sentence:

-Tuu tuu!

He then turned his head towards me with a smile and wouldn’t stop starring at me until I replied:

-Yes, tuu tuu.

I am fully aware that whoever came up with the idea of this tedious vehicle didn’t really have my age group in mind to entertain, but I can assure that if he, she or them would ever cross my path here in life they would regret their million making idea for sure.

After watching the only two DVDs staring this plastic train from hell, I had a few more hours to entertain the boy before his afternoon nap. These hours was filled with playing with the toddler and his toys, making lunch for the toddler, refusing the toddler to watch more of Thomas the Tank Engine, cleaning up after the toddler, making sure that the toddler didn’t fall over, bump or walk into something with sharp edges and of course the highlight of the day.....

The true joy of changing nappies!

I mean how the hell can something so small contain so much shit? It was like Nestle had open some sort of an outlet shopping mall up the boy’s crack, and the smell?

Do not even go there!

Surely all you have to do is to dip a cork in some strong after shave and shove it up the smelly source, no?

And it wasn’t that this was a once a day thing, oh no we are talking about 6-10 times daily of this nappy business. I had been informed that after cleaning the boy’s tush and the parts that was covered with the smelly stuff I had to put cream around the pink/ red areas. This would have been dead simple if it isn’t for the fact that babies are pink/ red-ish all over, it’s their natural colour for heaven sake.

When he finally fell asleep for two hours I pored a big mug of very strong coffee, grab the yellow walkie talkie that was connected to the one in the toddler’s room, basically glued it to my ear so I could make sure that the child was actually a sleep, and then I started to pack the so called travel bag.

This bag was filled and stuffed with fruits, nappies, juice, dummies, nappies, raisins, tissues more nappies for the trip to school to pick up the girl. I swear to God by the end of the week I was so paranoid about the toddler to over shit himself during this trip that I basically had a years supply of nappies in the rucksack just in case of and only one raisin in case he was hungry.

After shaking the boy out of his sleep and back to reality, stuff him with some leftovers from the day before it was time to hit the high road.

Now I always thought that most mothers with a baby trolleys on public transport can be quite selfish and plain rude, however after that week I am so on their side fighting for their rights here in society. Cuz people do not move for you to get to that special area in the buss where you can park the damn trolley, which you by the way need a driving licence to be able to handle properly. No matter how many sorry, excuse me, pardons you tell them, they will just stand there looking at you that you have no value at all. So in the end you actually do not have any other choice than push it fast forward whilst huffing and puffing, screaming:

-Move it, just FUCKING move God damn it!!!

Of course you do not wait until they move cuz that will not happen in a million years. No you just keep on pushing, driving over peoples toes and feet, careless if you scratch their fake designers shoes (this was after all in the east end of London) into pieces after all you have a baby to protect.

After collecting the little donna, we headed towards the playground next to the school. Now if something is even worse than changing stinky nappies, it is public playgrounds, cuz all of a sudden you are surrounded by millions of kids screaming, crying, stealing each other’s toys and most important making sure that ones kids do not get trapped in the stupidly designed multi coloured iron climbing facility and strangle themselves to death in one of the thick ropes that is attached to this badly 1970 something designed thing.

This very exhausting scenario takes place at the same time when the rest of the dead bored out foreign female nannies are exchanging make up tips or planing nannies salsa dance nights on a bench far far way in the distance.

This is also the place where you will meet the ex nanny for the first time or in my case the ex nanny that got the sack cuz she was crap.

She was this spiteful woman from Brazil or something who kept on trying really hard to show off big times and kept on saying stuff like:

-Oh when I was their nanny they used to adore me.....when I was their nanny I would never colour co-ordinate their clothes like you have....when I was there nanny we used to make farmer animals with my used tampax!

In the end I was so tired of her bragging and wanted to scream to her:

-If you would just stop pestering "my" kids and turn around to pay attention to you own ugly children you would realise that they are at the moment stomping around in dog shit, you silly girl!

But I was a proud nanny with class, so I just told my children to get into the trolley and off we went.

Back home it was dinner, and despite the fact that I love cooking I had to question myself what do one cook for lactose allergic kids?

Answer....... well rice, rice and then some rice is my answer to that one.

After that it was bath time and pyjamas dressing, and then one hour of Animal Planet to make them near comatose before the mother arrived, praise the lord, by this time I was so exhausted and couldn’t wait to get home to drink myself to unconscious, praying that I would not wake up until it was time to easter decorate my flat.

Even though it was pretty hard work, it did run quite smoothly if I may say so until my last day Friday.

Friday was the day when the girl would finish school earlier and therefor the toddler did not get a nap which mad him of course very tired and to a certain extent somewhat grumpy. As I was preparing the daily travel bag, the boy was playing with something, and I wished that I had been a bit more aware what he was playing with cuz by the time I realised it was too late. The little boy had gone bonkers and open every God damn jigsaw box in the whole house (and believe me this family must have joined the internet site:

http:// www.cheapjigsawforyouand wegiveyoueightthousendpoundsincreditwhenyoujoinus.com

Cuz the place was absolute filled with these evil plastic/wooden pieces) and turned them up side down and spread every piece all over the floor.

I had about five minutes before we had to leave, and trying too dress a child, pack a bag, and sort out about 30 boxes of jigsaw is basically totally impossible even for a super duper nanny like myself, so in the end I just put all the pieces in three boxes and left the rest empty thinking:

Guess the family ain’t gonna play with those for a while.

At this particular Friday the daughter was in a play and therefor she was dressed up in a princess dress made by some tulle and one of those lycra ballerina dresses that you had to squeeze her out of like a sausage with a too tight skin.

The high light after school on Fridays for these kids was to go to something called The Farm, and when I saw this place it explained a lot of things from my early years here in London. See I used to hang at a place calle The White Swan and on my drunken crawls back to our place in Bethnal Green I used to pass this place thinking that I was hallucinating cuz how else could one explain a bunch of cheeps, ducks and a donkey in the middle of a round about?

But that was The Farm......

Now The Farm is some sort of institution for extremely bored housewives who do not get out much according to me. This is the place where they take their children and let them run completely free to pest other bored house wives (or poor male nannies like in my case) whilst they are nibbling away on some home made carrot cake and chatting about their mail order budget for the year very, very loud. Myself must say that I rather change 100 nappies a day than spend another hour there, cuz it is hell.

I sincerely can’t believe that I made it through my two hours visit there without even getting close to go as mental as my biological mother, father and sister combined.

As I was getting my kids ready to leave I asked the daughter if she needed to go to the toilet before we started our trip back home but she assured that she was fine so off we went. As soon as we got to the bus stop she said:

-I need to wee wee.

-Babe I asked you before we left and you said no, okay? I replied.

-But I need to wee wee now.

-No you don’t.

-If I can’t go wee wee I will wee wee in my panties.

-No you are a big girl and big girls do not do that, you need to wait until we get home okay.

Unfortunately all the buses were full so it took ages before we got on one. When we finally got on, the nagging about the pee business continue and if that wasn’t enough the little boy started to cry due to certain circumstances in his under the belt department.

All of a sudden the girl says:

-He has been doing a poo poo, yuck, yuck!

-Hmm yea well I guessed that, actually I think the whole bus knows that by now, I replied somewhat irritated and tired.

To make the whole situation worse I went on the wrong bus as we were changing, and off we went to the complete other direction. I had no other choice than get off the bus run over the street to catch a bus back to the beginning of our journey, and on top of that it started to rain. So there I was with one kid crying cuz she needed a piss, one toddler who screamed cuz he was very uncomfortable due to his shitty business in his nappies whilst the rain was poring down. And all I could think about was:

How the hell could I end up in a situation like this, all I wanted as a kid was to become a well known fashion designer!

About 45 minutes later I finally put the key into the door at their home, told the girl to run to the toilet whilst I carried the boy into the living room to undress him and change his nappy. When I finally got the nappies off I was faced with something looked like a pink canvas painted with all sort of different shades of brown oil paint.

As I started to clean up the mess I all of a sudden heard:

-Yiiiaaaaaaaa whoooa.

It was the girl who screamed so loud like she had been faced by some evil living version of My Little Pony or something so I had no choice than leave Mr. "I-am-leaking-with-smelly-stuff" and run into the bathroom just to realize that the poor girl could not get off her little ballerina spandex jump suit and just like that infront of me started to piss right through it. Sprinkling her urine like an upside down fountain, sobbing away hysterically cuz she was so ashamed. I just stood there not knowing what to do and because the toddler in the other room was screaming like he had his balls chopped off and I knew that I needed to get control of the situation I just said;

-Don’t worry, I do the same thing all the time.

She dried her tears and looked at me somewhat confused and said:

-You do?

-Oh yea all the time I just wee wee through my jeans constantly, can’t really control myself wee wee all day through Marcus does, I replied whilst I was trying my hardest to keep myself as sane as I could.

I hushed her, dried her tears, got her undressed, ran a bath and told her to get into it, grabbed her very wet outfit ran into the living room, threw them in the kitchen sink to finish of the cleaning of the toddler who by now had turned tomato red due to all his screaming and crying, not to mention that thanks to all his frenetic shaking and kicking had made his poo re-decorating the carpet around him. As I was getting the situation somewhat under control, I yet again was interrupted by:

-Yiiiaaaaaaaa whoooa.

So off I ran into the bathroom again with the feeling that a minor heart attack was knocking on the front door, just to find the girl having a dump in the bathtub. She was just standing there crying with like five small pretty little floaters of shit around her legs. It looked like some dinghy competition for very tiny people. So yet again (this time hearing that my voice was getting somewhat high pitch) I said:

-Oh don’t worry Marcus do this every day, I just poo poo every where.

-You do, she replied even more confused than she was about my wee wee story.

-Oh yea constantly, can’t stop myself, Poo Poo Marcus they call me!

However the reality was that I was by now convinced that this little scenario would be the one that would actually award me with that VIP ticket to insanity!

After all the wee and poo cleaning up I made them some dinner and sat down and waited for their baby sitter for the night to come so I could go back to my more sane life style.

As I was leaving the kids was standing in the door, and even after I got around the corner from their home I could still hear them go:

-Bye bye Marcus, bye bye

I would lie if I would say I wasn’t extremely touched but at the same time couldn’t wait to get home and I thought to myself:

Thank God for redundancy package and cocaine!
Link to this | Contact me |

Breakdown in figures regarding walking a puppy to work:

Things such as trees, lamp post etc. that puppy marks with his wee wee: Roughly 68
Attacked older ladies with bad perm and an even worse home made bleached hairdo: 1
Sexy scaffolders that smiles at you after spotting the cute puppy on Waterloo Bridge: 1
Ugly birds of all sorts that was scared to death almost by adorable puppy: More than 30 for sure.
Homeless person who tries to pat the puppy’s head but falls over due to being too stoned: 1
Very irritating women who goes: Awwwwwwww soooooo cute: 3
Exhausted Swedish puppy walker with breathing problems when he finally arrived at work yesterday morning: 1
Link to this | Contact me |

Tomas:

-Did he have a big cock?

Me:

-I don't know, guess it was average.

Janne:

-Well, average for Marcus is like 12 inches!
Link to this | Contact me |

Well, well, well what did I say?

When I logged on to Gaydar after posting my previous blog, a very hot’n’horny guy had given me one of those flames, very flattering but where did he live, huh?

In Vancouver!

Further on after been on the site for three- four minutes I got a message from a couple who really wanted to play and take care of me as they so gently put it, and how old were they, huh?

51 and 57!

Actually if I should be totally honest here and this is really sad, but even the hookers on Gaydar do not reply to me when I message them:

How much do you charge?

I did plan to update my photos a few weeks ago and maybe funk them up with PhotoShop, but maybe no point of that, as my friend the Art Director said to me once:

-Marcus, even PhotoShop has it limits to create miracles!

Even though as I said I might not be too much into pulling on Gaydar it is always nice to get flatter and after all if the guy from Leeds or Vancouver would live in London and one of them would ask if he could come over I would with most certainty invite him. Or even better if both came over at the same time, guess only Heidi would understand my happiness since I would feel exactly the same gratefulness as she did when she was given those two Swiss Alps goats in the TV series in the end of the seventies

However the reality is that the men that do ring my doorbell is usually from British Gas wanting to read the meter or some daft guy that have decided to work for free to beg for some cash to save some poor village somewhere nowhere and they ain’t usually hunky dory according to my taste.

Anyway I am not here to talk about my sexual frustrations.

What I wanted to say is that despite my mixed feeling about Gaydar occasionally you do come across some profiles that really cracks you up. Not because they are tacky or awful in anyway, no just cuz they are full on pure hilarious according to me. People who just are themselves and obvious do not give a shit if some of the shallow queens who do take their Gaydar a little bit too serious will see them as somewhat a bit on the crazy side.

A few months ago I came across one of those and I showed Janne it immediately (or maybe it was the other way around) and we where on the floor in stitches. Of course I wouldn’t write what the guys profile is but these are some of the stuff he wrote on it:

About

I like animals cats, dogs and horses, I don’t like slugs, but I wouldn’t harm one. I like music, of all genres, with a leaning towards alternative stuff. I do like to go out dancing sometimes but there’s a time and a place, I don’t like Celine Dion, she is the musical equivalent of a slug. I like reading but I like looking at the pictures more, and I like my friends a lot. I really don’t like arrogance, but I do like confidence and humour goes a long way. Being handsome doesn’t make people sexy, sometimes it helps, but I prefer someone who’s got a bit more going on.

Looking for

I know it when I see it. I’m open to suggestions, surprise me! I like loads of different people for thousands of different reasons.

Here are some of the things I particularly like-

Sex, preferably versatile
Slug pellets
Good

If you like any of these things we probably will not get on-

Celine Dion
Rice pudding
Slugs
Crap films
Evil

Hobbies & Favourite things

I like to read, listen to music, watch TV, talk to my friends on the phone, visit places of interest, drink lager, or wine, or sometimes vodka, dance around clubs, walk, talk, eat, sleep and fuck. I don’t like having no money and rice pudding (yuk) so I stay away from rice pudding and I am finally earning again after a couple of years further education, hooray!

Food things you eat (who wrote these questions anyway?)
Music stuff you listen 2 (are they retarded?)
Author people who write books
Film good to watch (surely everyone knows this?)
Actor generally nice to look at
Actress female actors
TV Show things you watch on the television
Holiday Destination places to go to normally with sunshine
City a big place where lots of people live
Country an even bigger place
Club a thing to hit people with
Bar/Pub another thing to hit people with/ a place to drink

Of course people who don’t have the same humour as me will probably not think this is funny at all. If that is the case I will blame it on having high temperature and yet again spaced out thanks to that.

Unfortunately I can’t really blame my state on that since as soon as Nurse Hobbit heard about my high fever he ran over here with Nurofen Plus and Cold & Flu Relief tablets plus one of those sticks that takes your temperature, which showed 37.5!

What can I say:

Useless friend with an even useless thermometer........
Link to this | Contact me |