The Orgy, the Bomb and the Chemical Burn

Yeah, it's been an eventful few days.  Eventful in the loosest sense of the word of course.  This is my life we're talking about after all!

So yeah, the ORGY!  That's got you a bit excited hasn't it?  Just the words have got me a bit excited too but hell, if you're asking whether Sket finally got laid you'll only have to stop and think about the question before nodding your head in quiet contemplation as you reach the inevitable conclusion that it is the most ridiculous question you've ever asked yourself.  It was a dream.  Not only was it a dream, it revealed that even in my dreams I'm a sexual loser.  Yup, the kind of loser who can't even get shagged AT AN ORGY in a DREAM!

It began with me walking down the street with a bunch of guys my dream self seemed to know really well.  Someone said something about going somewhere to see a sperm sculpture (?) so of course, we all wanted to go see that!  We ended up in some sort of old 70's taxi office where coachloads of fat, over-made up, bleach haired middle-aged women were being shipped in for an orgy.  It turned out that the sperm sculpture was a phenomena which created itself during the orgy (eh?).  Anyhoo, turns out all the guys I was with (apart from one I actually dream liked) were getting involved.  I remember thinking that I'd have my pick of the fellas as I was the youngest female there by about 50 years.

....(sigh) not a sniff of a nob.  Nope.  All the guys buggered off with the old women.  How dream hurtful!

...but hang on - what's THIS?  From behind, I felt some gentle hands on  my hips.  With a big smile I turned around to be faced with

AN

OLD

HOOK-NOSED

Z-LIST ACTOR

....FROM THE 70s!

He was so Z list in fact, I don't even know his name!  Been trawling the internet trying to find all the minor actors who ever appeared in Carry On films but no, I can't find out who my dream lover actually was or why the fuck he turned up in my dream!  I call him my 'dream lover' but the reality is, in the dream, I was so horrified that he was the only taker of my prime piece of vadge I wanted to go somewhere private so I spent a good part of the dream trawling the place for an empty room.  It wasn't happening; the Orgy was too big and there were too many people for the dream space. Becoming dream frustrated I stormed from one of the rooms and turned to my hook nose 'would-be' lover to say that we should just do it any way.  Unfortunately, when I DID turn around I was faced with an ancient, leathery old woman who looked to be about 90 years old.  Incredulous, I asked her what the fuck she was doing there and why the hell she was following me! She just told me she was all confused and had got lost on her way to the Women's Institute.

....for fucksake!  Foiled at having dream sex AND I never got to see the sperm sculpture!

After that disappointment,  you wanna hear about the bomb?  That's ANOTHER disappointing story to be fair.  About 6 weeks ago the Tidiness Nazi made some vegetable soup and I took some to work in a really cool flask I bought JUST because it was metal, orange and retro.  I mean, who uses a flask nowadays; builders?  I dunno, but I was excited that after about 4 years I was finally able to use the thing.  The only flaw to the plan was that when lunch time came I was so disgusted at the thought I'd only got some stupid shitty soup to eat I left it in the refrigerator.

For 2 weeks.

I only remembered it when I spotted the flask as I tried to sneak myself a cup of tea without making anyone else one.  I transferred it to my car but immediately forgot it again.  Hell, soup is SOOOOOOO forgettable. My sieve-like memory was again stirred when I got into my car on a hot day and ended up gagging on a horrible 'meaty' stench.  I dunno how it became meaty as it was vegetable soup but I quickly grew frightened of the orange metal 'bomb'somewhere in my car.  If stench was escaping then gas was building up.  It was about this time I knew I had to deal with said bomb so with a saucepan on my head (but no facial, body or hand protection) I hunted it down and decided to open it in the garden.  I actually wept.  Standing in the garden wearing Garfield pajamas with a saucepan on my head and weeping real tears of fear I put a tea towel over the flask and started to unscrew the lid.  What I forgot to tell you is that a metal base had already exploded off it and was now detached and twisted.  There was also black goo on stuff where I'd left it.  The sound of my anguish bought the Tidiness Nazi out of the house.  She felt it important to support me via the medium of laughter.

.....any way, seems the gas had already escaped when it blew the base off and released black sludge so it was a real anti climax.  It just opened.  Sorry.

AND FINALLY - some advice:  If you ever dye your hair a dark colour without paying attention to the drips, DON'T then ignore all mirrors whilst spending the day at work where everyone will be too polite to tell you that there are black marks all around your brow.  Upon discovery of this social faux pas, in your car, don't then try to remove said marks with a chemical soaked windscreen wipe.  You will just end up with a stained face and chemical burns....