I Made A New Page For You While I’m Waiting For The Boilerman

 

It’s for you all (y’all) to add your links to your blogs and so you can find other good blogs to read.

SPREAD THE LOVE, MY CHICKADEES, far across the wide, wide, WordPress.

Add your own blog to DOTTY’S PET BLOGS.

And go and visit each other.

But always come back to me.

Because I love you.

You are ALL beautiful.

And sparkly.

No exceptions.

Except one.

 

Short Dotty Film Review Of All The Twilight Films

I'm not putting a picture of ugly Pobert on my little blog so you can look at the book instead

 

 

Pobert Rattinson (see Dotty’s Consonant Swap Game) is one of the ugliest fuckers ever to show himself on my telly. His face looks like someone smacked it repeatedly with a gravestone. He resembles Stefan Somerhalder (see Totty On The Telly), my lovely Ian Somerhalder’s ugly brother from THE VAMPIRE DIARIES.

In the films Pobert is a vampire and he has a girlfriend who is human. Ring any bells? Yes, of course it rings bells, a BIG fucking ding-a-ling of bells, because IT’S A COMPLETE RIP-OFF OF THE VAMPIRE DIARIES. And yes, I HAVE read the books, the first three anyway, and putting aside THE VAMPIRE DIARIES rip-off issue the books are a zillion times better than the films for these four reasons —

1.  Pobert’s ugly face isn’t in the books.

2.  Pobert’s ugly face isn’t in the books.

3.  Pobert’s ugly face isn’t in the books.

4.  HALF THE STORY IS MISSING.

So don’t bother watching these films, they’re shite. You should read the books instead – PROPER books with PAPER PAGES.

 

Score  – 0 out of 10

 

Totty On The Telly

 

If you want to give Ian a kiss be careful not to drool on your screen or you'll have to do housework to wash the spit off.

Eeeeeeekkk, eeeeeeeekkkk, eeeeeeeeeeekkkk!

I’m so happy. So, so, so, so happy.

 

My Shopping Person brought me a telly magazine yesterday with next week’s listings and MY LOVELY IAN SOMERHALDER is back on the telly next TUESDAY NIGHT in THE VAMPIRE DIARIES.

He’s back!

 

 

I LOVE HIM.

And he would LOVE ME if that Elena would fuck off and leave him alone. I don’t know why he likes her, it’s not like she’s PERFECT is it? – I’ve noticed she has a VERY UGLY LEFT THUMB. My lovely Ian, can I tell you something? My left thumb is VERY BEAUTIFUL, I don’t expect you’ll have ever seen a left thumb more beautiful. Elena’s left thumb is BENT like a GNARLY OLD TWIG but mine isn’t, MINE is as straight and true as the far horizon on a bright, clear romantic evening. If you take me to a Caribbean island I’ll SHOW you my left thumb as we stand on the beach looking out at our dreams, our future, and you can compare that distant line of FATE with my left thumb and YOU WILL SEE NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THEM.

I have to start getting ready for next Tuesday night. I’ll do a list.

 

THINGS TO DO FOR NEXT TUESDAY NIGHT

Cut my hair — I’ve been trying to grow it since last week when I saw a telly programme that said British people want REAL BRITISH HAIR for their extensions and you can get a good bit of cash if you sell your own hair to them, but sod it, my lovely Ian Somerhalder is more important.

Put a bulb in my Muppet lamp — I like to watch my lovely Ian in a soft, smoochy light.

Get my catapult and my catapult ammunition ready —  I need my catapult for when my lovely Ian Somerhalder’s ugly brother, STEFAN SOMERHALDER, appears on the telly. I aim for his squashed nose and my total hits for the last series – 54. I’m a DEAD SHOT with my catapult (see Weaponry For Hermits for how to make your own catapult).

Find my bottle of red food colouring — I dye my Cumberland sausages red so that when my lovely Ian is having his dinner I can have mine too, at the same time. I also dye my Diet Coke which doesn’t work too well, the red doesn’t show up much through the brown, but in the romantic glow of my Muppet lamp you can’t really tell.

5  Give my fangs a wash — To wash your fangs just use toothpaste and a toothbrush. Polish them with a squirt of Pledge and a duster after you’ve washed them and you’ll really feel the difference.

Find my sexy black dress — They’re always having big parties in THE VAMPIRE DIARIES so I need to look my best or I’ll give my lovely Ian a right showing up.

 

I know there’s something else to go on the list but I can’t remember what it is. I need to have a little think so you’ll have to go away now while I do because it’s important I don’t forget something for Tuesday night. Don’t worry, I’m not kicking you out and making you homeless, you can go and sit with my lovely Ian until I remember what it is I can’t remember.

 

Dotty’s St Valentine’s Day Massacre

 

Well, what I can say? I was all ready to ring INTERPOL yesterday to grass up that JUDAS brother of mine, AFTER I’d blown his arse off with the new present he gave me. BUT I DIDN’T. And after everything that’s happened this week you’d think by now I’d be curled up in the corner blowing spit bubbles, but NO I AM NOT, I have been EMPOWERED and FORTIFIED and I’ve HAD A BATH and WASHED MY HAIR and I am like DOTTY THE WONDER WOMAN and all because of this darling little blog of mine. I LOVE MY BLOG. I LOVE IT, LOVE IT, LOVE IT. I’ve sent it a Valentine’s Day card and I gave it a big sloppy KISS. And my darling little blog LOVES ME – it’s given me EIGHTY FOLLOWERS and Jesus only had TWELVE FOLLOWERS in the early days and one of them turned ROGUE — so ha ha Jesus, who’s the DADDY now, eh? EH?

So today is the 3rd anniversary of THE DAY I KILLED SIMON. You might be wondering why I’m not banged up in the clinky (I know all the prison jargon, I watch LAW & ORDER UK). Well I DID go to prison but only while I was waiting for the trial and my prison wasn’t a general prison it was a sort of prison for the criminally insane. But I AM NOT CRIMINALLY INSANE and that was proved when JUDGE HACKISNACKERSOFF threw the case out on the very first day when she heard how Simon bought me A HOOVER for Valentine’s Day. NO card, NO chocolates, NO flowers – in her speech Judge Hackisnackersoff said his actions “reached depths of mental cruelty previously unheard of in this court.” She also said “The deceased deserved everything he got.” So here I am, and it’s all thanks to Judge Hackisnackersoff that I have my darling little blog at all.

Today I am ALL ABOUT LOVE so here is a list of –

 

THINGS I LOVE BEST TODAY

Cumberland sausages

My darling little blog

My brick

My other brick, the one that broke JUDAS’S TRIGGER FINGER

My EIGHTY followers in my darling little blog (hey Jesus — NEH NEH NEH-NEH NEH – I’ve got more followers than you. LOSER!)

McCain’s Chippy Chips

Diet Coke

My collections (which I won’t list individually because I love them all equally, but I will make an especial mention of my COLLECTED AMERICANS (see Dotty’s List Of Collected Americans) because they are PART OF MY DARLING LITTLE BLOG, combining two of the things I love best today.

Judge Hackisnackersoff

My CLEAN HAIR

Ian Somerhalder

 

Ermm, that’s it.

If anyone wants me today you’ll find me in A Bit Of Totty For Dotty where I’ll be looking at my pictures of my lovely Ian Somerhalder.

I hope you all have a beautiful, beautiful St Valentine’s Day.

 

EDIT EDIT EDIT – I got it wrong. I’ve only got SEVENTY NINE followers because the other one is ME. Also, did Jesus have TWELVE or THIRTEEN followers before Judas became a JUDAS? Hmm, they’ll ban me from the bible class if I ever go to a bible class which I won’t because I CAN’T GO OUT and if I could I wouldn’t go anyway because I used to live next door to a family of JEHOVAH’S WITNESSES and in the summer, when all the other kids were chasing the ice cream van and throwing each other in the paddling pool, the JEHOVAH’S WITNESS KIDS were sitting in their back garden DOING BIBLE STUDY.

AND the JEHOVAH’S WITNESSES tried to nick my garden but that’s another story for another time.

 

 

 

Adventures In The Airing Cupboard

 

Last night I was driven to hide in the airing cupboard by certain people who shall not be named (but you know who you are, don’t you?). They all scared me silly – niceness is disconcerting at the best of times but when it’s forced on a hermit willy-nilly from all directions, well, it was either the airing cupboard or total collapse and a trip to Ward 13. BUT – (and don’t all you Perpetrators of Niceness misinterpret what I’m going to say next as forgiveness or anything) – my time in the airing cupboard turned out to be one of the best times of my life and one of the worst. I’ve only just come out (well, not exactly this minute – I went for a wee and a wash and a Cumberland sausage sandwich or four before I switched on my laptop).

It started off like it usually does. I gathered what I needed (pills, brick, water, blanket, some Cumberland sausages, and a couple of little drams of Laudanum to help me sleep) and went in. My airing cupboard is larger than the average airing cupboard, in fact it used to be one of my spare bedrooms but after my children left home I stored all my new towels, sheets, duvet sets, etc in there (I like to collect nice towels and bedding) so you could say the room decided for itself that it needed a change (and why shouldn’t it?). It’s bigger than a normal airing cupboard but it isn’t Narnia so I can only fit so much in there, and the space I have to make my little bed in IS little, probably a lot smaller than the space in an Uncollector’s airing cupboard. I made my little bed on the bit of floor left in the middle of the stacks. Cosy and warm. I began the shaping of my new brick and spent about an hour or two on that (handy that I was in the airing cupboard, my towels were right there ready to mop up the blood – actually, wait a minute, I just need to check I didn’t use my white ones).

Okay, they were blue.

When I’d finished with my brick I felt round for my torch but it wasn’t there. I know NOW that I forgot it, but I didn’t know it then and all sorts of things started going through my head, terrible things, horrible things about monsters and demons hiding in the stacks, about giant woodlice and moths crawling out to get me, about the airing cupboard being Narnia after all and Queen Jadis had nicked my torch and was going to come back and turn me into a giant snowball. At that I panicked, full blown panic. I thrashed my arms about a bit. And my legs. I think it was my right big toe that clipped the stack of eiderdowns and started the TOPPLE (I’ve put that in big and bold because it was a BIG MEGA TOPPLE). Everything came down on me, all of it, even the stacks that were wedged to the ceiling, I was underneath the whole lot. I panicked some more. I was stuck, I couldn’t get out. I got ready to die and I just knew that when I was found I would be nothing but a dried husk of a Dotty and everything in the airing cupboard would have soaked up all my bodily fluids and CSI Yorkshire would have some nice new towels and posh duvet sets after they’d extracted me out of them and they’d given them a good wash (I hoped they’d use Persil Non-Bio because I’m allergic to other washing powders). I wondered who’d come for me at the FINAL SECOND, Death, or one of his minions, Death’s mini-me, – and if Death really IS a Hoodie I’d be even more afraid than I already was because if he was anything like the Hoodies in my area he wouldn’t just carry a sickle he’d have a five inch shank and a semi-automatic and he’d call me nasty names and say ‘innit’ a lot and then he’d mug me for my phone before he took me away to Deathland (but my phone was in the drawer where I’d put it so phew! he wouldn’t get that). As all this was going through my head I started to  feel dizzy and see stars and I knew it was TIME, the life was seeping out of me, goodbye World you were a shitty place but you had some nice scenery, I’d really miss the sun coming up over Ilkley Moor at dawn on a clear winter’s morn.

Darkness fell and I don’t know what happened then because I was dead (well, obviously I wasn’t DEAD dead, but you know what I mean, I thought I was). I woke up and it was still dark so naturally I assumed I’d been transported out of the airing cupboard to Hell (in case you’re wondering, it wasn’t red, or hot, and there were no flames or screaming wraiths). My head hurt like fuck. I wondered if I’d been right all along and Death HAD mugged me for my phone and while he was at it had given me a bash round the head with his rock-hard boney fist. I put my hand out in front of me to see if it was still there. I wiggled my fingers. I couldn’t see them but what I did see, what slowly took shape right there in front of me, was the most wondrous, heart-lifting thing ever, the best thing I could ever, ever, ever have seen, and if I live until my dying day I shall never forget the sight of my Granny Euphemia standing where my left thumb should have been, her hair still curly and white, her lovely toothless face still crumpled like a squished-up peach, her favourite torn slippers still flapping at the front, her woolly brown dress, her pink cardigan, and her kitchen apron with a big picture of Michelangelo’s David on it. I couldn’t believe it, I thought I was hallucinating that I’d been taken to Heaven not Hell because my Granny Euphemia was the loveliest, kindest, goodest person that ever lived and died and there was no way she would have ended up in Hell. Euphemia Agnes Headbanger nee de la O’McDuff, – our ancestors were French Calvinists, Irish potato faminists, and Scottish barbarians (ginger Picts) –  married to my Granda, Angus McHeadbanger – (dear dead Daddy dropped the Mc when he moved to England but I’ll tell you about that another time when I can think of him without keening).

‘Is that you, Dotty, hen?’ Granny Euphemia said.

Tears were pouring down my face and I was so choked with happiness I could hardly speak. But I did. ‘Yes, Granny Euphemia. It’s me,’ I said.

‘My, my, you’ve got awfy fat, lassie. Whit have you been eating?’

‘Cumberland sausages. They’re my favourite.’

‘Sausages? Do you ken whit they put in them?’

‘They’re no worse than haggis, Granny.’

‘Am I fat, hen? Am I? Tell me now, is there one spare inch of flesh on me? I’ve been eating haggis for nigh on eighty years and I’ve still got the figure that caught your Grandfaither.’

‘But you’ve been dead for twenty years, you’re bound to lose weight.’

‘Have I? Deid, am I? Ach, well, it comes tae us all in the end. Come here and gie me a cuddle, hen.’

I still couldn’t move. I tried to but one arm and both my legs were trapped. ‘I can’t, I’m stuck. Will you help me, please, Granny Euphemia?’

‘No. If you werenae so fat you’d have sprung up out of there in no time. You need tae stop eating yon sausages.’

‘For fuck’s sake, Granny Euphemia, just shift that bag of towels and I’ll be able to move my foot to kick my way out.’

‘No I will not. Ach, whit happened tae you, Dotty, hen? You were such a nice wee lassie. I should’ve gone tae see wee Lottie instead, she widnae speak tae her Granny like that.’

Typical fucking Lottie, I can’t even have a reunion with my long-dead Granny without her butting in on it. ‘I’m sorry for swearing. Please help me up, Granny Euphemia.’

She peered at me lying there, stuck. It seemed like ages before she spoke again. ‘I’ll help you up if you dae something for me,’ she said. ‘Promise me you’ll change your ways. Swearing and eating sausages, they have tae stop. And have you seen the state of your hoose, you dirty wee pig? It’s bogging. Clean it and keep cleaning it every day. I cannae believe you’ve let it get tae that. Where dae you keep your scrubbing brush and carbolic?’

‘Under the sink.’

‘Right, I’m away tae make a start then.’

And poof, she went, disappeared, gone. I lay there thinking about what she’d said. She was right, I had to make some changes, I do swear too much and the house could do with a bit of a tidy. Cutting out Cumberland sausages though – I’d have to see about that one, I’d give it a try, for Granny Euphemia. I hadn’t promised her I’d give them up though, she didn’t give me chance to before she fucked off to find the scrubbing brush and soap, so I thought that if I can’t manage without them at least I’m not going back on my word to her.

INTERLUDE

I got out of the airing cupboard at 3.03pm this afternoon. I don’t know how, it’s all a bit of a haze after Granny Euphemia disappeared, but if I remember rightly my lovely Ian Somerhalder came and lifted everything off me and stacked it all up neatly again. As I’ve already said, I had a wash and a wee and a pile of Cumberland sausage sandwiches as soon as I came out. And I’m going to have some MORE Cumberland sausage sandwiches now for my tea because you know what, Granny Euphemia is nowhere to be seen, she didn’t TOUCH the scrubbing brush or the soap and everything in the house is just as I left it last night. So, Granny Euphemia, even though seeing you made me the happiest Dotty in the world, you can go and sit and swivel on the scrubbing brush you old slacker, I bet you didn’t even look for it, I bet you just pissed off down the pub to get sozzled, didn’t you, so if it’s all right for you to say one thing and do another it’s all right for me too. I WILL stop swearing like I said I would, and I’ll clean my house BY MYSELF (seeing as you haven’t done ANYTHING at all) but as for giving up my Cumberland sausages, Hell will freeze over before that happens.

Right, I’m off to make my tea before it gets any later. I’m starving.

 

First Aid For Hermits

 

Always being alone in your house can be dangerous but combine it with not speaking to other people and it becomes potentially fatal. I’ve had many accidents that could have been serious if I hadn’t known what to do at the time. To avoid death (and why NOT avoid it, you avoid everything else – why should death be any different?) here are a few First Aid basics you really do need to know. Bear in mind I’m NOT a doctor, I can only tell you what I personally do when I injure myself.

I’m presuming you have a well-stocked medicine room, if not just make note of the items in big writing and get your Shopping Person to get them for you- I can’t be bothered making a shopping list for you today.

 

Bumps and Bruises

For bangs on the head caused by banging your head on the wall fill the sink with equal amounts of ABSINTHE and WITCH HAZEL and put your head in it (be careful not to drown). This will help to bring out the bruising. If you think you might have knocked yourself out then it’s possible you might have concussion or a brain injury so go and have a little lie down for a while until the headache has gone. A big swig of Laudanum will help with the pain.

 

Nicks and Cuts

For little nicks on your fingers caused by the cheese grater, or for slightly deeper cuts from the scissors you use to separate your Cumberland sausage links, stop whining and stick a PLASTER on it. Deeper nicks and cuts, (such as when you’ve bought a cow home and you’re butchering it so you can freeze some for later and you chop half your hand off instead of the cow’s head), require an antiseptic ointment of OPIUM and LARD, a BANDAGE, and a strip of plaster to stop your bandage from unravelling. Clean the wound first though with your ARSENIC DISINFECTANT OINTMENT. A big swig of Laudanum will help with the pain.

 

Trapped Nerves

For a trapped nerve in the neck caused by kneeling at your window at an angle that allows you to keep watch for white vans with spies in them without being seen by your nosey neighbours, I’m afraid you need time in TRACTION. Use a SAW to make a neck-sized hole at one end of your kitchen table. Don’t worry, it won’t affect your keep fit routine, (see The Dotty Way To Exercise ©™®), in fact you’ll be using your DIET COKE BOTTLES for this too, doubling your value for money. Tie your diet coke bottles to either end of a LEATHER STRAP (a handbag strap will do, it doesn’t matter if you only have one handbag, use it – you don’t use if for anything else, do you?) place your diet coke bottles at either side of the neck-sized hole and lie down (on your back) on the table. Carefully lift the diet coke bottles and place the leather strap across the front of your neck. Let the diet coke bottles drop off the end of the table (slowly and carefully, you might want to avoid beheading yourself). Stay in this position for 3 hours. Repeat daily for 6 weeks and the weight of the diet coke bottles will free your trapped nerve allowing your future white van vigils to be pain-free and comfortable. Big swigs of Laudanum taken hourly will help with the pain.

 

Stomach Upsets

If you haven’t yet learned how to cook your Cumberland sausages you might have a few stomach problems. First of all, always cook your Cumberland sausages for at least an hour, contrary to popular belief crispy is good, so is black. To cure stomach upsets already caused by uncooked Cumberland sausages make WORMWOOD tea (if you’re not a gardener you can use ABSINTHE but not too much because it’s a potent alcoholic drink and you don’t want to get addicted). A big swig of Laudanum will help with the pain.

 

Twisted, Sprained or Broken Arms and Legs

If you haven’t cleaned your house yet you’re at great risk of tripping over some bit of shite that shouldn’t be on your floor. This is VERY PAINFUL when you do it and as you’ve no way of knowing the severity of the injury (unless you have your own X-Ray machine which I’m saving up for) it’s best to err on the side of caution and SPLINT the limb you’ve damaged. If your stock of pre-made splints has run out and you’ve been too idle to make some more, it serves you right, you should keep up with your housework, I’ve already told you this. If you’re a new hermit and this is the first time you need a splint, what you do is you take a shelf from your bookcase (lay the books in neat piles on the floor) saw it down to fit your arm or leg and strap it on to said arm or leg. You can use anything to secure it (I’ve found knee-socks work well) as long as it’s tied tight enough for the splint to stay on. Keep the splint on for about 3 months. Big swigs of Laudanum taken hourly will help with the pain.

 

Strangling Yourself On Your Shower Curtain

It might happen that one day you’re playing with your (toy) ducks in the bath and you get a bit too involved and try to swim with them underwater but when you dive you hit your head on the bottom and can’t get up and to save yourself from drowning you grab the shower curtain but you’re so disorientated you get into a fight with it and it wraps itself round your neck and tries to strangle you and when you finally get free of it you’re left with nasty strangle contusions round your neck. And it bloody well hurts. A lot. Well sorry, there’s nothing you can do for this except take a big swig of Laudanum to help with the pain.

 

May you all remain injury-free and painless, my hermits. Be safe, be careful, and most of all be prepared.

 

 

SOSS – Save Our Site Stats

 

BLOGGY PEOPLE, YOUR SITE STATS NEED YOU.

WordPress are taking our site stats out of our Dashboards and putting them on the Home Page bit where Topics and Freshly Pressed are. They’ve done it already, if you click on the little W at the top left-hand corner of your black strip at the top of the page, you’ll see them at the bottom of the list. They’ll soon be gone from our Dashboards. I love my site stats being on my Dashboard, I don’t want Wordpress to take them away. 

Go and add your objections to the Comments on this page – http://en.blog.wordpress.com/2012/01/26/your-stats-have-a-new-home/

 

 

Collecting NOT Hoarding

 

I’ve been getting oh so bored lately and after a lot of thought I decided I need to start a new collection. I’ve written elsewhere in this blog about hoarding (see Hobbies For Hermits), and this is NOT the same, not at all because what I’m now collecting is American Therapists and Life Coaches. So far I’ve got two, one for each category, which is pretty good going, don’t you think, to say I only started my collection the day before yesterday.

But apart from being bored I have another motive for this new collection. Lately I’m in a positive mood, a self-help mood, so I chose to collect American Therapists and Life Coaches in the hope that they will become my friends and emigrate to Britain and treat me for free for the rest of my life (they would have to if they lived here in Britain). Did you know this, my American Therapist and Life Coach? When you come to live in Britain you’ll need to know these things, you’ll need to know how we do things here.

I’ll explain it all.

We Who Are Mental (I’ve decided we deserve to be capitalised from now on) do not pay you a penny for therapy or for life coaching. David Cameron pays you. He’s a nice man. All you do is come here, tell him a little fib – that you’re a failed banker who wants a career change – and what he’ll do is give you loads and loads and loads of money, and he’ll give you MORE loads and loads and loads of money if you also tell him you really, really hate poor people. If you say you once went to Europe, he’ll give you a big bonus and let you play with his little doll called Nick.

You can live with me, all of you. I admit, the house I live in at the moment is far too small for lots of us (I’m reckoning on having many more than two American Therapists and Life Coaches in my collection) but I’ve thought of that – with the pile of money David is going to give each of you, you can all club together and buy a great mansion set in mmmm, let’s say 2,000 acres of beautiful gardens and woodland, with streams and badgers and otters and hawks and huge ancient oak trees and fairies and elves and hobbits and ten big gamekeepers with big guns to blast the heads off any intruders. You’ll have your own rooms, you’ll have a fantastic time conversing with your intellectual peers, you’ll have the beauty and grandeur of the British countryside, and best of all you’ll have the professional satisfaction of collectively treating a lost cause (me). And the cherry on your cake is – wait for it – FREE HEALTH CARE, you won’t ever have to shell out for a doctor again. Howsabout that!!

If the two I have collected so far, my American Therapist and my American Life Coach, would like to come here now I am able to accomodate you, at a squeeze. I have a sofa bed stored in my cellar (you can scrub the mould off when you get here), and my sister, Lottie, has a camp bed (she won’t charge much). Be prepared to start work immediately though – although I DO want you to come and live with me, my People Phobia and my Hermititis will make it appear that I don’t, but it’s your job to sort that out, it IS the reason you’re coming after all.

If the collection goes well I might consider expanding it to include American Personal Trainers, American Plastic Surgeons, American Hairdressers, American Publishers Of Satire And Farce, and American Actors Who I Fancy. Actually, I’m going to start on the last one now –

Ian Somerhalder, where are you?

 

 

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