On the Pull with Trevor Truelove.
48 years old and in the first week of separation after 22 years of marriage. Trevor had offered to 'show me the ropes'.
There is no rule book on dating at my age and to be frank, I wasn't much good at 'pulling' before I got married.
In spite of this, my confidence was high. I was fit, could dance, hadn't smoked for 10 years and four months at the gym had now, made me visible to women.
Showered and changed at work. Just enough time to drive home, eat and catch the 8pm bus into town.
During the drive home, I'm aware that my body weight is the only thing stopping the contents of my bowl, doing an impression of a curious tortoise.
I arrive outside the impressive four story terrace house in which I rent a tiny garret. Clenching my sphincter whilst loosening my belt, I quickly mount the stairs to the 1st floor communal toilet.
Slam, turn, drop, dump.
I'm slightly weekend by the sudden disgorgement. When I recover, I realise, there is no toilet paper. We're supposed to supply our own.
I like to think of myself as resourceful, but unlike previous occasions, I have no paper, till receipts cigarette papers or old wrappers on me.
Ahhh! Pedal bin.
Inside is nothing but a rolled up panty liner. I gingerly unroll it using the very tips of my fingernails. Fortunately, it turns out to be the final 'all clear' pad.
The plan, to stick it in the arse position in my boxers, go upstairs, retrieve my bog roll, go back down stairs and finish off.
With that problem resolved, my mind races onto the night ahead. Am I too old? Can I still 'cut it' on the dance floor? Is Trevor actually qualified to advise me? As I enter my room, the cell 'phone rings.
"Hi Trev'."
"Hi Tick', are you OK to meet me at 8.30 or are you going to catch the later bus?"
"I'm OK, 8.30 is fine."
" 'K catch you later. "
My mind is still going ten to the dozen as I arrive in the almost empty bar. Trev' is waiting and orders the drinks.
Greetings dispensed with, he starts to inform me of the nights agenda.
It occurs to me, that with the excitement of the evening and the distraction of the 'phone call, I've forgotten to implement the part of my plan that involved going back down with the bog roll to finish off.
I'm still wearing the liner!
Any normal person, would have said nothing, slipped off to the toilet and sorted it, but my love of the bizarre gets the better of me.
"Excuse me Trev', I have to dive off to the toilet to remove the soiled panty liner from my 'kecks'."
Trevor is frozen with incomprehension, as I wander off.
-----------------------------------
I think even Biker Girl subconciously thinks I'm gay after what she told me last night. I was going to blog it but she's beaten me to it. ( I would have put in a link, but I don't have my html notes with me )
-----------------------------------
I've tried to make the Skoda to go faster. Yesterday, I tucked into the slip stream of a passing tortoise but it soon lost me.
There is no rule book on dating at my age and to be frank, I wasn't much good at 'pulling' before I got married.
In spite of this, my confidence was high. I was fit, could dance, hadn't smoked for 10 years and four months at the gym had now, made me visible to women.
Showered and changed at work. Just enough time to drive home, eat and catch the 8pm bus into town.
During the drive home, I'm aware that my body weight is the only thing stopping the contents of my bowl, doing an impression of a curious tortoise.
I arrive outside the impressive four story terrace house in which I rent a tiny garret. Clenching my sphincter whilst loosening my belt, I quickly mount the stairs to the 1st floor communal toilet.
Slam, turn, drop, dump.
I'm slightly weekend by the sudden disgorgement. When I recover, I realise, there is no toilet paper. We're supposed to supply our own.
I like to think of myself as resourceful, but unlike previous occasions, I have no paper, till receipts cigarette papers or old wrappers on me.
Ahhh! Pedal bin.
Inside is nothing but a rolled up panty liner. I gingerly unroll it using the very tips of my fingernails. Fortunately, it turns out to be the final 'all clear' pad.
The plan, to stick it in the arse position in my boxers, go upstairs, retrieve my bog roll, go back down stairs and finish off.
With that problem resolved, my mind races onto the night ahead. Am I too old? Can I still 'cut it' on the dance floor? Is Trevor actually qualified to advise me? As I enter my room, the cell 'phone rings.
"Hi Trev'."
"Hi Tick', are you OK to meet me at 8.30 or are you going to catch the later bus?"
"I'm OK, 8.30 is fine."
" 'K catch you later. "
My mind is still going ten to the dozen as I arrive in the almost empty bar. Trev' is waiting and orders the drinks.
Greetings dispensed with, he starts to inform me of the nights agenda.
It occurs to me, that with the excitement of the evening and the distraction of the 'phone call, I've forgotten to implement the part of my plan that involved going back down with the bog roll to finish off.
I'm still wearing the liner!
Any normal person, would have said nothing, slipped off to the toilet and sorted it, but my love of the bizarre gets the better of me.
"Excuse me Trev', I have to dive off to the toilet to remove the soiled panty liner from my 'kecks'."
Trevor is frozen with incomprehension, as I wander off.
-----------------------------------
I think even Biker Girl subconciously thinks I'm gay after what she told me last night. I was going to blog it but she's beaten me to it. ( I would have put in a link, but I don't have my html notes with me )
-----------------------------------
I've tried to make the Skoda to go faster. Yesterday, I tucked into the slip stream of a passing tortoise but it soon lost me.
posted by Tickersoid at 4:23 PM
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47 Comments:
Ha ha ha haah!
I'm SO first!
* throws Fuckkit's fingers back at her *
Have now read post:
Yuk! Every time I thought it wasn't going to get any worse, you called my bluff and made it MUCH worse.
My toes curled and my bum clenched at the image of you touching the vile jam rag. And then to have it in actual contact with your skin...
Eeeeewww!
Don't stop entertaining us.
Victory is yours.
I'm not sure what I'd have done if it hadn't been the 'all clear' pad.
Used a sock?
You dun this before?
Never have I been caught out like that.
Although there was that time when I was dying for a piss. Got to the bog, frantically undid my trousers, sat down and let go.
Hadn't checked if the lid was up though, had I.
*wanders off to plot hideous revenge against IDV*
Never! Although, I've been thinking about what to do in 'Poo Emergencies' ever since I read about Funny Thing's Pooing in a bucket fiasco.
Damn it! Fuckkit's ruined my response!
If only I was quicker at doing links in comments...
* braces self for the wrath of Fuckkit *
Mommy, why are you crying?
I'm not crying sweetheart, I'm laughing.
But you're wiping tears!
I know, I'm just laughing so hard that tears are coming out of my eyes.
What are you laughing at, tell me!!
Um. No. I can't tell you.
Aw Mom, you never tell me what is so funny!
(thank you tickers, you cleared my sinuses for the day)
Surely by the time you got to the bogs it would have dried and you'd be wanting wet wipes instead of bog roll?
oh...my...gawd! Why is it I like you even MORE after this story, tick?
Ewww let me say again ewww, and what she said (points at fuckkit) about the wet wipes.
All my poo stories are about long hours and people never getting to shit in the privacy of their own home and that office legend " the phantom floater"
Fucking hilarious!
That had me rolling with laughter. But you forgot to tell us if it was 'soiled' and your arse was clean!
that's three shifty!
Bravo for supreme resourcefulness in adverse circumstances. You're a model to us all!
I'm not sure my mum would have approved, though. When I was a kid, I asked her what the things were in her drawer (they were tampons), and she told me that she used them to wipe her bum. So, next time we ran out of bog roll, I hobbled off, took one, and wiped with it. She wasn't very impressed, especially when it refused to flush.
That is hilarious - and yet completely demented. I'm female and I'd sooner throw out soiled undies than use someone else's used liner. Oh man, you have guts.
Did it have "wings"?
Great story.
kyah- My work is done.
Fuckkit- Good point. In this case, or when you've spent too long reading the paper, and there is not wash basin, I usually take the lid off the cistern to dampen bog paper.
Phlegm- The combination of honesty and not caring too much what others think, can be endearing or dangerous.
Lippy- Phantom floater. No one uses that cubical so the turd eventually becomes fluffy.
P&T- I think things that are normally considered 'too much information' in real life are OK for bloggers. Both mildly soiled as I recall. I refer you to fuckkits reply for the remedial action.
Shifty- I'm sure these things happen to others. For me the comedic value overides the indignity.
Kyah- Perhaps OMG is a single word exclamation. Hard to pronounce though.
qenny- I would have had to have used the whole pack. Probably would have sucked all the water out of the sewage system for 100m each way.
Snooze- The bedsit had no washing facilities. No contest.
Frobe- I don't remember, it was four years ago. Why the need for such details;)
If you want to make the Skoda go faster you could try sellotaping fireworks to it.
OH MY GOD!!! I think that is the longest period of time that my mouth has hung open in shock. Then I burst out laughing.... AT WORK DAMN IT!!! Your stories are the most original HONEST bits of entertainment I have ever come across.
Ew ew EEEEeeweeweewewwwwwwww.
I hope the jam-rag lady didn't have crabs.
...
...
...
...is your bum itching?
Ho.ly. shit... So glad I came upon your blog with this entry...um...I think I will never leave home without some tissue in my purse or pocket...thanks for sharing...(i think - I'm still laughing though)
Fuckkit- You could be right. It's already a bit of a damp squib. I'm off down the main dealers today to see if this is normal.
Shandi- You see, you won't be able to blog at work if you become a truck driver. Glad you liked it.
Ft- No, I've only had crabs once in my life. The annoying part of it was, I was still a virgin!
Maybe- I on the other hand have learned nothing from this experience. Still rely on my inginuety.
I swear, no-one in the US (well, no-one I've met) knows what I mean when I say I have a turtle.......... They call them Prairie dogs. Dumb asses.
and as far as the panty liner - holy shit!
It has been a long time since I laughed out loud and like kyahgirl says, my kids want to know what I'm laughing at but I can't tell them....... (well, I might tell my 15 yo son..... ruin him forever!)
I can't say I've ever had that happen to me, but I once peed my pants in 6th grade because the teacher wouldn't let me go to the restroom!
Woo hoo - 28th, innit!
Um, I'm awaiting your post on Tom Cruise's Hollywood Placenta Psychedelic Freakout.
29th!
God I'm so fucking bored.
What we need to know, Tickers, is whether that was as close as you got to a females knickers that night?
We need to know.
Andi- Why prairie Dogs? they pop up, and have the wrong action.
Xtasy- Did they send you home, or just make you wear old gym kit.
Phlegm- I was only joking. Mind you I think they serve placenta and chips up north. I know they do tripe and chips which is worse.
Fuckkit- My 'puter will be fixed and loaded Monday evening. If you haven't gone South by then I'll play with you so you don't have to play with yourself.
Canute- The answer is in my next post 'Brown eyed girl'
Hilarious.
I think that OMG can be pronounced by joining the meditative OM with the American exclamatory Gee.
Skodas are meant to go slow so that they don't rattle themselves apart; well, the old ones anyway. You'll know if it's not working correctly when a snail zooms past you waving a tentacle in a threatening manner whilst shouting "The one on the right's the accelerator you wanka". Just watch out for the frizzy haired snails that frequent Salford.
*runs*
*realises that runs in the context of this post was probably a poor choice of words*
*remember the original reason to comment*
Never under any circumstances use a glossy magazine to wipe your arse with ... unless you want an arse that looks like a freshly iced chocolate cake.
I'm having trouble with the frizzy haired snails blog.
Thanks for the advice on glossy magazines. It's a pity though, because one wonders what else copies of 'Hello' might be usefull for.
Hello.
I'm bored too.
Think I might finish that bottle of wine.
I've just been at Tina's - it was working fine.
Right.
Better start/resume drinking.
* sigh *
*ack* *ack* The fact that I think you're serious abou that makes me feel a little green around the gills.
IDV- Don't worry, I have reason to blieve I will be back on line by Monday night.
I don't actually have a technical problem with Sniffys, It's just that she writes so much I don't feel like reading it with my limited internet time.
I'm off tonight for a night of drink song and dance in the 'Bridges' gay corner.
Why can't I be an honourary gay like Lady Muck?
Phlegm- do you mean the 'Hello' magazine?
In my eyes, Tickers, you are an honorary gay!
Glad to hear you (may) be online properly soon.
And before I go, Fuck Off Anonymous you little weirdo!
Thanks IDV.
I may be a little pushed for time next week but I'm hoping to put out the next post monday night if I'm able to set up and read 3000 emails in time.
I can make you an Honourary Gay Badge like Lady Muck's if you want, Tickers.
Cant wait to have you back :)
Yey I'm back on line.
Just got to read 492 emails.
I'm looking forward to printing off my Honarary Gay Badge.
Hurry up! I wanna get in before Fuckkit.
I've just had Surfer Dude visit, so I'll post some thing after a few beers.
* whines *
But I'm tired! She'll beat me. Unless you post VERY late then I'll comment VERY early in the morning.
Yes. That'll work.
* cackles *
OK, Surfer Dude has left, so I can either post the long 'Brown Eyed Girl' story, which is a bit of a challenge given my alcohol intake, or just do a few bits and pieces to tide you over.
Thinks.
Yeah I'm gonna beat you. With sticks.
Still biding.
*bides some more time*
He must be sober by now???
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