Things You Find On The Job Centre Website

And she did accept my kinky ways. So I texted her the other night after I came home from Nanny Boo Boo's and the next day I sat at work waiting for her to text me back. Work is shit at the moment. Betty Blue is leaving at the end of the week to go back to universtiy. Kissy Boy is saying that they're going to go out long distance but I can't see it happening. I'd say Kissy Boy will fuck half of Belfast the week she leaves.

They're laying people off. The contract is having problems, they don't think it'll be renewed. The bosses are so strict. I'm behind on my stats but to be honest if there was somewhere else to leave I'd go. I keep checking the online job centre and there's fuck all but kissogram and part time scrotum lickers.

I went home via the off-licence and bought a bottle of pink champaigne. I was going to go for a long walk up out into the countryside and get pure fucked. Instead I went home and put some figure hugging spandex on. Then I heard the door. I slipped on a scabby old tracksuit over the top and went to answer it.

It was The Punchbowl Girl. She had a backpack on her shoulder. I thought it was probably full of stuff I'd given her that she was going to give back but then I remembered that what I'd given her would fill her balled fist.

"Why did you leave the party?" she asked.

"I was embarrassed at what had been said about me."

"So is it true?"

"Yes, it is," I nodded.

"Well in that case, I've stuff in this bag you'll like."

I invited her in and it turns out she had a big bag of spandex all for me, pink stuff, green stuff, blue stuff, all out of the fetish pages of your da's magazine collection in the roofspace. I'm not going to tell you what happened the rest of the evening other than to make smug sounds that teenagers do in school when they're talking about who did what to whom at the previous night's school disco (or thereabouts).

Lonely Mrs. Puddinghead - Part 2

So I've this plan to get a new job and I pop off to the job centre to find that it's full of folk wanting jobs, all the oul gang are still there but they're outnumbered by all these high fallutin types wanting work. It's not cool, except Mrs Puddinghead is well busy and really pissed off that's she's speaking to people who actually want to work for a change.

I start looking through the jobs and see there's one for a kissogram. I think this would rock for me because I could borrow Fabian Wildman's Zentai and rock out to fuck in a house full of lovely ladies all wanting kissed. I would but I remember one time spying on Mrs. Puddinghead (out of boredom) and seeing a male kissogram show up to her lonely house night after night but then one night the kissogram didn't come any more and I asked The Albino about it one time he was in a good mood and he laughed and told me that she'd been blacklisted by every kissogram company in the province because she always liked to look on their visits as dates and wanted to move their relationship to the next level but they wouldn't and how she cried and begged and bought them chocolates and expensive brandy. He laughed so much his cheeks turned a pinkish-white. Nasty bastard.

I don't like Mrs Puddinghead but that's one of the saddest stories I've ever heard. I remembered her crying the other week and I still think she's a bitch but I can't help but feel sorry for her. I think I'll just avoid her in here if I can (I was trying to do that anyway) or just recognise that her nastiness is just a reaction to the love she sees everywhere but never feels herself.