Who milks a pig? Rich idiot.com - dating taster.

Richidiot.com dating - The e-book will be 98p to download until I complete Richidiot.com - dating 2. Here is the Link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ATF8QF2 Eva, In general, I would advise you to avoid milking pigs. It is just something I learned when I was young – it seems they don’t like it – especially by Russian women with particularly well - manicured nails. You might prefer to start with a goat and work up to a smiling cow. The cow is the one with the hanging udders – do not try and milk any other kind – especially if there is only one appendage hanging down. Incidentally, what is it with this milking mania? We have Andreas sending cow milking in pictorial form and now you pig milking – there has to be something in the air! Farming hobbies? Oh and talking of random, last night I was in the supermarket and saw the ‘ghost of diet hell past’. She was in the chocolate isle and appeared to be arguing with a bar of chocolate. ‘I don’t need you – I can’t eat you, you make me fat!’ she then put the chocolate down, turned around picked it up, then jumped up and down. I hid at the end of the isle watching her going through this conflict. It was terrifying to watch and something I have experienced when I did the original diet. Eventually she picked up four bars and stormed to the checkout. She really seems to be in a state of struggle. After doing that extreme diet I only eat dark chocolate now because then I just have a taste and that is it. My will power is rubbish too but to witness someone argue with chocolate in public... Mad. Gracie. The link to richidiot.com on Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ATF8QF2

Another Rich Idiot.com - dating taster...

Link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ATF8QF2 Rich idiot.com - dating. Oh Eva, why do I always manage to attract complete dicks? At least I have upped my game to the wealthier dick! I suppose the fact that man has a dick is something to do with it. It seems that the weighted difference between the upper brain and the lesser brain is the main cause of all the issues. Gravity and the dick brain... I will reply to the mail with the following: Hi Andreas, I am about to go for a long stroll by the beach with a friend and then to a cafe. Later this evening I will enjoy sitting, writing and editing. We do have an enormous amount in common. I think it will be worth meeting up whether it is romantic or not. That way there is no pressure. I really enjoy the way you articulate and feel that we could find solutions to the work issues – should it work out. Incidentally do you have a car? If so, have you been to Winchester before? I like the idea of meeting up there because that is about half way. Talk soon Gracie. What do you think Eva? I often wonder whether men have any clue about the discussions women have about them. I find it amusing how we spend our working day discussing and analysing their behaviour. At least it passes the mundane working hours. I haven’t fully involved the naughty boys with this Andreas yet either. I can imagine their faces lighting up and all of their opinions, pure carnage. They will train me like Rocky before going into a dating ‘fight’. I think that I want to keep this one quiet. They are still entertained by the date where I climbed out the toilet window and came face to face with the chap who had popped out for a smoke. That was a hideous moment! I still can’t believe I said I was training to be a burglar. He didn’t buy it – so I pointed at the cigarette and said ‘but you said you didn’t smoke! Liar!’ Oh all these dates over the years and look where I am – single! Boooo! Maybe singledom is the best thing. The women here call it singledooooooooom! I call it freedom. Oooops! Gracie. Here is the link:http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ATF8QF2 The e-book will be on Amazon for 98pence until I complete the second in the series, which I hope to complete in the next month!

Rich idiot.com - dating - a taster...

A little taster of Richidiot.com - dating. Pre-new year resolution plan and tick list: Intention: this year I will meet an educated, respectful man who has dealt with his ‘baggage’. He will be excited about the prospect of meeting an intelligent, tall and inspirational woman (me). He must be/have: o Class / be a gentleman. o Taller than me. o Takes care of himself. o No erroneous smells or bad breath. Must wash his undercarriage. (This is based on the flatulent date I went on). o Good oral and genital hygiene. o No obvious ear or nostril hair. o Has own finances and own home. (Not six hundred thousand in debt like one of the ex’s) o Respectful. This is a biggy! o Passionate. o Not depressed and over his ex. o Available and not married! o About the same age. o Intelligent and can hold good conversation. o Amusing / humorous get my jokes and find them funny. o Good hide the sausage technique. o Not an emotional turd-fest! o NOT AN IDIOT!!!! Honest opinions welcome! Kind regards Gracie. Here is the link: Link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00ATF8QF2

A rather strange coincidence. Imagine this - I climb on a train to go on a journey and I run into a young lady that I used to work with. She asks me about my office personality types and how it is going... She said she would love to read a book with all the office archetypes and personalities. It was quite a profound moment because these archetypes inspired Richidiot.com - dating... So with this in mind - my news is that I am going to compile the book of office observation and release it in the coming months. I have to admit, it is a fun one to write because all I have to do is sit and watch the 'office zoo!' Happy days. Oh and the e-book for rich idiot is on for 98p until I release the second in the series here is the link:http://www.amazon.co.uk/Rich-Idiot-com-Dating-Idiot-ebook/dp/B00ATF8QF2

Rower's buttock and the bum massage ordeal!

The unfortunate incident of the bum massage. Have you ever had to ask anyone to massage your bum muscles? If you have I suggest that you do not admit it to anyone. Okay let me give you are ‘brief’ history. As many of you know, I take part in the fantastic sport of rowing. This means getting up early at the weekend, carrying heavy boats, bruising yourself and then competing against other teams of ladies in treacherous tsunami-like conditions. Sometimes the boats sink, other times mothers have to save their children from drowning and fellow team members fart when they shout ‘start’ at the beginning of the race (they said start not fart!). I am still disturbed that I actually inhaled someone else’s intestine at the beginning of a race. After training endlessly for hours, experiencing painful blisters and muscle burn - you endure it all for the rare occasion when you actually win… Yes win. The tingling feeling of winning and the elation that you have conquered the conditions to be number one is a motivator for many. I go for the cake. Please don’t tell my team that… There are loads of Victoria sponges and chocolate brownies – all homemade. I have the domestic capability of a squid with leprosy… So the delight of a light sponge is a dream. Sorry I deviated. There have been many times where we have come second but last week we ‘connected’ and gave it our all in conditions that would extract washing from the washing line and deposit it five miles down the road – usually on a cow’s head! So with all this in mind, for two races we gave it full power, so much so, my bow person, Sally, held back from vomiting on my back. We reached our limits, surpassed them and then pushed again… After, albeit elated, my left buttock was up in arms, it does not have any arms but if it did it would have been waving them! That miserable buttock felt like it was on fire… After a night of celebration, where one of my team nodded off on her pizza, the cox lost her voice and there were some random incidents of knicker borrowing and bra lending… I headed home for a night of grumbling buttock. I decided that I was suffering from a complaint called rower’s buttock. Since the muscles were tight, I thought I would be able to solve the buttock revolt by taking part in hot yoga. Surely a buttock would not feel hot if the surrounding temperature was higher than the buttock – that must be some law of physics… Unfortunately the bottom burn was not solved, so I called my local sports masseuse and requested a massage. I simply said I was a rower and needed a ‘rowing’ massage. That Tuesday I was all concerned at work. I mentioned the situation to the boys at work, they all suddenly experts in the art of bum massage. I suggested that they demonstrate on each other and suddenly their skills were not so refined or vocal. Boys! So that evening I ventured into the Sports massage shop and went up to the rather gorgeous and statuesque looking man and whispered. ‘Hi am here for the bum massage.’ He smiled politely. ‘I came for the personal trainining!’ Bugger! Could I pretend I was a personal trainer? The image of a tortoise retracting into its shell spun through my mind…Why does it always happen to me? I had just confessed that I was having a bum massage to a hot, male stranger. Yes it worked as an opening line but I don’t think such lines result in dates… Hmmm. Anyway, my Dutch masseuse emerged from the massage room. She was petite, blonde and looked quite fragile. I have noticed that this sort of person usually has the most vicious thumbs… ‘Are you the masseuse?’ She nodded. ‘You are the rower…’ I nodded. ‘Follow me…’ We went into the stark brown room that was decorated with wall charts of muscles. Pride of place, at the centre of the wall, was a pair of muscular buttocks. ‘That’s what I have…’ I said pointing. ‘Everyone has those,’ she responded with a straight face. I studied her and noticed she was smirking at her own joke. ‘So lie down then…’ I studied the massage table and removed my trousers. ‘I wore the largest knickers I own so that you do not have to see my bottom,’ I blurted. Admittedly they nearly reached my neck and resembled something that superman might wear over tights… I was being considerate. The expression of confusion washed over her face… ‘I am going to massage your Glutes not admire them…’ It was lucky that I hadn’t decorated them then! I was so embarrassed. I will not go into further details but the massage commenced. At this time I would like to cut to the image of a particularly vicious WWF wrestling match. Followed by Rocky being knocked down in one of his films and finally a milk jelly being hit by a large mallet. Anyway when I suffer from pain, I laugh. I don’t know why but the more painful it is the more I laugh. The woman was elbowing my left posterial cheek - I was laughing hysterically and it became contagious. The more I laughed the more she laughed. We had to call a time out to catch our breaths, that was before she attacked the second cheek. Admittedly the right side was not so painful but I would prefer you to imagine slapping a cheesecake with a table tennis bat, rolling a rolling pin of hard boiled eggs with shells on and finally popping giant bubble wrap with your bare feet… Pop! And then the massage was over. I had tears in my eyes, bruises on my bottom and a masseuse who was studying me whilst coughing through laughter…. We went out to reception to pay and I gave her a tip. ‘One pound for each butt cheek ,’ I said. If I had had a fat bottom, with the equivalent of double chins, I would have given her four pounds… She looked at me again and I noticed that the reception was quiet. ‘I was suffering from rower’s buttock and she has straightened my cheek out.’ I said with a gentle pat to my posterior. There was one of those arid silences. There was no room for a tumble-weed, more of a bit of dust attached to a clump of hair that could be found in the carpet…. Of course, those who were sitting in reception were the beautiful elite. One woman was the type to visit the gym wearing the smallest leopard skin outfits. No doubt shefound apt places to bend over to distract the men while they were grunting. The chap sitting by the door was rather fit and obviously an athlete. He was now staring at my straightened buttock…. Hmm how did I get him from there to my face? So with all this in mind… This is for the young ladies at the rowing club who asked me to write more about the random things that happen in my life… You know who you are… Clue - you speak with odd accents…. Moral of the story: Tight buttocks might sound like a good idea but are not terribly practical. Moral of the story two: when confessing to being in need of a bottom massage make sure you don’t tell the wrong person. Moral of the story three: Take six pairs of spare knickers to every rowing race because someone will at some point either lose, soil or end up with wet knickers….

Dating and the random world of table football.

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Okay, so I was not going to share this but by popular demand I apparently owe it to female kind to share one of my more random dates...

So I met this one on a fitness website - designed for people who are into exercise... I love rowing so I thought that a man who exercised would appeal to me. Imagine this - the moment I press click to join the website - the hottest bloke you could imagine instantly contacted me. I thought the heavens were smiling on me. He was beautiful, could type a sentence and was taller than me... Wow, wow and triple wow. At this point it is customary for me to look over my shoulder and wonder whether there is some kind of joke involved... Nope... Straight away we began to chat and he actually seemed nice. Again wooooooooooooooooooop! There had to be something.
I don't know about anyone else but I am searching for that chemical attraction and I thought - imagine - this could be it.

So after a heavy session of rowing which resulted in bleeding palms and blisters, I patched myself up with elastoplast and headed for the date. I know I am classy girl but if men can do the Italian shower with the Linx affect a woman can do the same with impulse - true love... Oh yes! So I there I am smelling of true love with a hint of perspiration and there he is... My goodness he was beautiful, tall, and... when he open his mouth well it was apparent that he had been granted the gift of beauty without the gift of intellect. He was such a nice chap but during the conversation he asked me to explain some of the words I was using...

Further into the date he showed me a picture of his newly decorated bedroom - it was decked out in Liverpool football posters, curtains and matching bedspread. To top it off there was a table football table beside his bed. He was so lovely but he did not get the 'so is that how you do foreplay joke?' I then had numerous visions of romantic moments with the Liverpool team gazind down from the wall. Then on top of that I became rather amused about being woken up in the night - 'shall we have a quickie - a game of table football.' Obviously my date was not so amused and the fact I was shaking with laughter probably did not appeal... Oh well t'is life. We all have our own special ways of doing things so I did not show him a picture of my bedroom with the taxidermied squirrels - only joking... But imagine if I had come back with a picture like that - all these stuffed squirrels... Right back to normal life.
Now with my previous blogs I always have a moral of the story and on my useless dates I have a summary. So the summary went like this - I feel that you and I have different tastes and I don't feel any chemistry. I don't think you feel it either. Good luck with finding the right one.
I was surprised to have a summary response from the beautiful man - 'I am glad you said that - I don't think I could go out with a girl with bigger biceps than me who is more intelligent. I liked meeting you though - but I feel stupid now. I always thought I was clever until I met you. Now I know I'm not...' Imagine how bad I felt then.

Moral of the story - dating sites for fit men do have fit men - however they may also have table football beside the bed.

When dating a fit man do not compare biceps especially if yours are bigger.
When dating any man do not make him feel stupid even if he is.



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Bottom kicking, reviews and a general update...

Okay, okay, I know... Yes I have been crap at keeping this updated but there are only so many plates a person can spin on a stick simultaneously!
The last months have looked like this - train for rowing competitions, work full time, date a dickhead - teach a creative writing course, edit a book, write a book and on top of all that go to work full time... Can you forgive me for not being able to blog too? As much as I wanted to share dickhead details, I have kept it to myself. I still cannot understand men and now my learning had taken a whole new tangent - it is the learning that a man can actually be an emotional black hole and a mental enigma... Fascinating or infuriating - I will leave that to you...



So the reason that I am back is to share my excitement - I have a review on the Resonance from a teen book reviewer who gave it 8/10 - bear in mind I am up against the big boys and girls of publishing... So that has made me very very very happy... I am doing a little dance now - dad dancing with a bit of break dancing with a hint of typing...

The link is as follows: http://www.flamingnet.com/​bookreviews/newreviews/​newbookreview.cfm?title=The Resonance (eBook)

So the teaching has been one of the best things I could do - it made me re-teach myself all the things I had not been doing. Yes - it also coincided with the Resonance edit. I realised that the art of description is paramount. It is something that I had never considered so important. Then there I am guiding a lesson on description and I think - oh shouldn't I be doing this... Oops - shhh don't tell anyone... So with that in mind I am now re-editing Goylegate to the heady heights of my own approval with descriptions that will enable visions of both horror and inspiration. I love it!