I'm not content with one blog...

For anyone remotely interested, I post most regularly to my LiveJournal account.

This blog exists mainly to post coarse, or risque posts. Or those which I wouldn't like my LiveJournal buddies to see. Or just when I feel like posting on this account.

Catch ma drift? I hope you do...

All the best.

Heather (new screen-name still pending) Dalgleish.

Awfy quiet, eh?

So I haven't written in a while; Neither has Shakespeare...

Nah, I'm just kinda busy, and can't be bothered, basically.

Don't worry, I'll get back to posting kinna regularly, but don't hold your breath or anything.

Haw haw

All absolutely tasteful but for the slight glimpse of either bollocks or labia (looks like female hands, and er, curtains) - and definitely quite genius.

Very clever indeed.

Haw haw.

Unshaven Pussy

I've decided to spend this post discussing my affinity for pussy cats, particularly my own - rather than my libido, or intercourse or any particularly interesting facts which lie therein.

I've decided on this for a few reasons. Mainly because my cat Fluffy (above) has been especially cute today and was sprawled over my chest only a few moments ago (above), which prompted me to take a photo (above) - and luckily for me, she did what it is near impossible to get a cat to do.

She sat still, for a moment, and let me take the photo. She even looks as though she's smiling in the photo. You know she loves me... And I love her too...

I mean, just look at her...

Ah, you know what I do some days - I roll my quilt up about half way, bend the rolled bit round to form a curve, puff it up and bring the rest of the quilt over and slide her in. And she just, shuffles about a wee bit and planks her arse, and purrs.

And then there's the days when she crawls in beside me, and you can hear the purring tail off as she falls asleep. Bless 'er wee heart!

Ah, she has too many mannerisms for me discuss at this moment. Just trust me when I tell you she's a wee soul, and I will love her furry little face till she shuffles of this mortal coil. Possibly even after...

So horny yet, so fussy...

More frustration here folks. I'm having one of my very horny moods right now, and I just lied my way out of a rendezvous I got myself into in the first place.

An ex-boyfriend. An ex-boyfriend from before I sat my Standard Grades who bored me senseless and still seems to think that he is magnificent in bed. Only once in our relationship did I drop the bombshell on him that I had never orgasmed through intercourse. This remains true.

He asked me to pay him a visit, which, as I've learnt over the past couple of years, is really just code for: "Come up and shag me." A few times, I made the naive assumption that I was going up for a friendly chat.

I let my erogenous zones rule my head for a brief moment, and led him to believe that there was a very good chance I'd be appearing at his door soon. Then I contemplated being in bed with him. Dread swept over me and my nipples receded. I had to get out of this - quick.

I took a breath and told him I was on the phone. I sat, and thought, and it hit me: My brother phoned to ask me to babysit his son while he (my brother) went out with his girlfriend. Parfait!

I broke it to him, convincingly, then sat wondering why I'm so blooming horny and refuse most opportunities to remedy this.

*Weeps* I just want a nice guy to be able to disappear under silk bedclothes with. It's my, evolutionary instinct. I'm not just being pathetic. Honest.

After all, where would we all be without sex? (We quite simply, wouldn't! Hurrah for sex!)

Grrraaaaargh!!!

I am feeling uptight and scared and rather nervous right now... I suffer from bureauphobia (it probably exists, but I'm not checking,) and I have to walk into offices to sort crap out. You have no idea! If I get a 9-5 job in an office, I will promptly hang myself.

I am rather pissed of. Royally pissed off. Many things I tell you - many things...

Where is my man? My knight in shining armour? Why am prostituting myself to the establishments which I hate? When will all this cease? - Death?

We are such stuff as dreams are made on. Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer...

Oh aye Shakespeare, you said it all - but sadly, I wasn't around to bed you. I bet you looked great in those tights...

Love & Lust

I disdain it - but I am an adolescent. I am a single adolescent. I am not yet immune to crushes. I am above average in attractiveness and have a few devoted suitors; none of whom I'd like to pursue a relationship with. I have a libido. I quite fancy a guy, twice my age, who is below average in (physical) attractiveness. If he does like me - he's very reticent. Though, I would assume he doesn't. This great web of unrequited amour makes me rather frustated at times.

Perhaps I was overbearingly communicative.

He has been totally overbearingly taciturn.

It's like, uh, hello there, uh, I'm half your age and twice as intelligent (<- joke); I'm half your age, but I have a great personality. Does it evade your perception that we are rather compatible folks?

Yes sir - I sound pathetic; but you know I'm not. I am not wistful, or presumptuous; I have deep-cutting perspicacity. I ken these things.

It's like - slap - what is wrong with you? Agh - just let me ruffle your hair for goodness sake!

Unless of course, one already has ae respective partner. Even at that - homo sapiens are supposed to tend slightly towards polygyny rather than absolute monogamy. Men are more likely to seek extra mates. The sex industry bears witness to this. I neither condone nor encourage this - merely, tell it how it is. Still, I understand...

My hands grow weary, and my heart, languid. I do need a man.

Kingston!

Like most 17-year-olds - I'm in a band. Unlike most 17-year-olds - the band I'm in is good.

We had a gig today. It was rather a Sod's Law affair: Cheryl's acoustic was fugued, and my brother's - don't laugh - G string snapped... People still thought we were good though, and a friend of Cheryl's even asked for all our autographs.

Anyway the pic is us. It's blurry - my dad took it - but it's us.

Heather.