In response to my fan requests

Its recently been indicated that Im being a little negative in this blog.In retaliation to these wild accusations and the suggestions that I should act like a man (despite my photo indicating that I am indeed of the wrong combination of chromozomes to perform this task) I have complied yet another of my famous lists.

today we have TOP TEN THINGS THAT MAKE BORNUNDER HAPPY (with added girlyness)

1.Watching my dogs chase each other round the garden and coming home to them everyday after work coz theyre always so goddamm happy to see me.
2.Drinking lambrini in bed on my own on a saturday watching rubbish telly and wallowing in my own drukenness.being sick at half five saturday evening coz Ive been drinking scince eleven am.
3.Shopping for anything.especially stuff for me.
4.Wearing stupid heels to dance all night and walking home barefoot in the rain (bonus smile points if I dont tread on glass)
5.Burping and laughing at myself (more bonus smile points if the people around you are disgusted by your behaviour)
6.Mixing what I thought was a perfect set the listening to the tape and getting annoyed at myself coz I could have done better.
7.Coming home after work when Ive done well and made sales appointments.
8.Bass that makes youre chest slam like it stopped youre heart beating for a second.
9.My mates turning up with a bottle of wine when Im too skint to go out
10.Terrorizing the paper boy

Dogs and Men

My mate called me last night,she moved house a year or so ago and we havent spoken for a while, so I was pretty shocked when she asked me if I had any gossip and all I could come up with was:

"not much really.one of my dogs has shat on my bathroom floor today...but I dont know which one it is."
"oh" she replies "have you got a boyfriend these days?"
"No"
"whats everyone up to now?"
"Nothing Really"

even by boring crap town standrds I haddnt realised things were this bad.

Ozzie-dog crossley

Ozz
Originally uploaded by bornunder.

This is Ozzie-dog,callie-belles trusty sidekick.he is not the brains of the outfit.but he has superior strength and weight to callie.He suffers flatulence and has bad breath.Is monumentally clumsy and has ran into a solid object head first twelve times this week.
on his list of eaten objects is the insole of my mate shauns trainer...He also pissed on my bed,which has cost me a perfectly good matress that had to be binned.Thanks Ozz

callie-belle crossley

calliebelle2
Originally uploaded by bornunder.

this is callie-belle crossley.shes my number one girl and has got the biggest blue eyes Ive ever seen.
in the last three months she has eaten a pair of technics headphones,an anne summers sex toy (see post dog eats anal plug) a mobile phone, seventeen socks and one trainer.
she has also de stuffed some item of furniture that contains blue foam.I am yet to discover the source of the foam.
calleie is my partner in crime when it comes to terrorizing the paper boy.she excelsat digging craters in my garden

At lunch

continuing my developing obsession with counting things that cause me stress.Ive decided if I count them Ill eventually start looking foward to these things so I can add them to my lists.I will diarise events that upset me on this blog.
Today, top ten annoying Old people things to do.

1.Walk in front of you,Make shocked tutting and clucking noises when you barrell into them.appaerently you were not looking where you were going young lady.
2.read every newspaper at the news stand.Buy none but hold up waiting customers such as myself for three days.
3.Act crazy when theyre sane and sane when theyre crazy..you never know where you stand with a crinkly.
4.State the blindingly obvious for instance "ohhhhh havent you grown" yes I have,and if Id have remained the same size scince the age of two,Id have problems.
5.Ask you if you want a cup of tea and a natter.No I do not want to talk to you much,the insurmountable age gap means we have absolubtely nothing in common,therefore nothing to talk about.
6.Tell you things arent like they used to be (thank christ)
7.go on about the war when they were three when it happened and only remember minor details like the lack of bananas available in england at the time
8.Have facial hair regardless of gender.
9.hate children of all ages,but dote on their own grandchildern.who will in all probability turn out to be ungrateful brats who steal their pensions.
10.go to hair salons the same time as I do,and whinge at me about the tea being cold for the duration of their blue rinse and perm.If you want good tea,piss off to a cafe and whine at the waitress.while youre there see how good she is at cut and colours.

Some people have suggested professional help for this counting things condition.
infact exactly seventeen people have suggested it.Id like to extend my warmest congratulations to you all.you are now nothing but another statistic for my blog.consider yourself counted.

Record shopping

I went to funky monkey the other day to buy some new records.I went alone as I always do when I shop for records because if anyoone comes with me they get their head done in. I often spend several hours in each shop listening to a gazillion and three different records before making the important decisions of which ones are going to work,and which arent.I played at a party recently,and had the cheek to complain about the setup and theyre being no moniter speaker which made it almost impossible to play.I got a condescending apology and a "well ZARD managed".zard plays drum and bass.any twat can mix drum and bass.If Id have anticipated a set up that shit,I would have took exclusively drum and bass records because its near on impossible to make a mess of mixing drum and bass.so ZARD,as far as Im concerned can stick his records up his japs eye.flat ways.
whats even worse is recently I have encountered this girls cant mix philosiphy at several shops as well!Un-pissing-beliveable!!.
I walk in with my OWN headphones in my bag,theyre loud enough to make your ears bleed so perfect for the job.
This seems to cause discomfort from the start amongst most spotty pre pubescent record shop staff.
they start shoving each other and muttering and giggling to themselves, "you help her kevin,tell her that this isnt a clothes shop"
"no percy!you tell her!...shes probably looking for westlife lp's or summat"

or words to that effect I would imagine

I have developed an almost unique way of dealing with this (apart from buying online of course)

I breeze up to the counter with a big smile on my face and ask for a record theyve probably never heard of,quoting even the label and run number and ask them if theyve got it.

more often than not the dumbass's dont realise Ive made it up and fall over each other to try and find it.suprisingly,they cant.
Ill then ask if they can order it in.more hilarity.

Ok so they cant order it,havent heard of it,cant find it on their database,and are too stupid to click that its an entirely fictional record.That makes them shit.Ive got the upper hand and they dont like it coz Im a girl trading in a mans land world of record shopping.
What would somone like me do in that situation I ask myself.well Id make them even more ill at ease by selecting a huge pile of records at an excruciatingly slow pace,all the while asking what they would reccommend,do they think it would fit into a set with these other records,what did they have for brekfast,do they wash behind theyre ears.By this point theyre pissed off to the back teeth with me,and Im thoroughly enjoying myself.
I then make myself comfortable infront of one of theyre usually clapped out technics turntable's they have on the counter and complain about the blunt stylus making it impossible to listen to all the records Ive picked up (usually I whinge till they change it).Somtimes I listen to each record twice.somtimes I even sing along which is usually the clincher in the "do you think shes a nutter?" sweep stakes the staff are by this point running.
by the time I leave I may have only spent a tenner,somtimes less.but Im safe in the knowledge Ive got the record I want and ruined theyre good for nothing little day into the bargain.
god I love being a girl.

another complaint about supermarkets

Last night I saw an advert.it went like this.

white screen with some food of some discription on,voice over

"This is a great big thankyou to everyone who shops at tesco's....and a big shameless please to those who dont"

now lets imagine that everyone in the great british public decided that tesco's have said pretty please nicely enough to get their custom and suddenly everyone decided to do their regular shop at tescos,this is what would happen.

white screen with some bloodstained broccoli florets on it, voice over

"This is a great big thankyou for the massive influx of custom we wasn't expecting and cannot supply...and a big shamless please stop panic buying and assulting each other and our staff"

Somtimes I just dont get it

office cleaner "you look tired are you all right?"
me "yeah fine just tired"
office cleaner "you look pale are you ill?" followed by "or maybe your coming down with somthing"
me "doubt it...no sun and lack of sleep dosent bring out the best in me"
office cleaner (sounding thoughtful) "hmmmmmm I think youre right"

did I miss somthing or did she just tell me I look dog rough?

allow me to explain

terrorizing my paper boy is an ongoing project.I havent got a reason number ten yet because he now wont go any where near my house.
pity.

another top ten list from bornunder

this week,top ten funny things I have done to make the paper boy who delivers the local free rag think Im a psyco


1.Sat with my fingers sticking out through the letter box and snatched the paper from him shouting about theyre being a war on.
2.Waited for the first corner of the paper to come through the letter box then ripped it out his hands
3.stuck a note on my door saying no free papers then stopped him in the street to whinge I diddnt get one
4.posted the paper back to him page by page.
6.asked him if he wants to come inside to see my collection of animal limbs.
7.sat at the letter box and barked like a rabid dog,then ran out and chased him down the street barking and shredding the paper with my teeth
8.sat crosslegged in the window staring at him and obsessively torn the paper into shreds whilst mouthing the words "next time its you"
9.cried at the obituarys

dream

I had a dream last night that I was in an airport terminal in america waiting to catch a flight home.(strange seen as though Im to scared of flying to even contemplate the hours of air time it would take me to get to the USA)
anyway.I dreamt a strange man showed me a storage cellar and then when we came back up a female suicide bomber had detonated a bomb in the main terminal?or maybe the departure lounge? who knows,Im not up on airport lingo.anywaylots of people were dead and there was loads of crazy shit and lots of americans.and I ran accross the terminal and walked through some double doors into a bar that was completely upper class english with two staff and no customers and it was massive.all polished mahogany and chandeleersAnd the two staff were wearing tux's and were very old school english.you know the type "oh that old boy?good show!" and so on.
One side of the bar I was in was glass which faced onto the carnage of the bomb wrecked airport (like the bar was built onto the side and you could see in on what was happening) but all I could hear was englishy posho piano music and glasses being chinked and so on.then in the end it turned out that the bomb the woman had strapped to herself was filled with millet seed or somthing bird seedy with explosives and that there were people bqanging against the glass trying to get into the bar where I was sat trying to use the phone.
I woke up confused.
If anyone knows what the fuck that was all about then please feel free to comment at the bottom and evaluate my messy inner psyche.

here for your convenience and pleasure

now,new e-mail my gobshite to your friends using this little button.
this button is formally known as the e-mail post button.I prefer to call it the foward rubbish button

My tights

I think tights were quite possibly designed by a power hungry bloke to remind women of theyre status as the weaker sex.
I mean think about it,when was the last time your tights or indeed stockings, knee highs, or pop socks stood up to anything more strenuous than a nice walk in your dinky little womanshoes (with gynormous six inch stilleto heels to make your dinky lillte womanlegs look longer and your (hopefully)partially dinky womanarse look smaller.
did you ever wear your tights for a night out on the piss and not ladder them?
did you ever rush because you were late to work and not ladder them?
did you ever do a spot of shopping and not ladder them?
Now you think about it did you ever leave the house and not ladder them?

Diddnt think so.
So heres my worry,I probably on average ladder my tights and stockings at least once per wear,normally Im able to get away with a small ladder twice as I tend to wear flesh coloured tights and stockings and so on that match my legs as much as possible (because I know by the end of the day Ill have a hole in them)
Im too paranoid to leave the house in a skirt without some form of leg cover,and daily leg shaving isnt always possible,and waxing?well waxing as we know hurts like fuck.so Iam doomed to either,
de-sex myself and feel less feminine by wearing manky suit trousers to work,which (seen as though Im not yet rich enough to have a tailor) are always a couple of inches too short/long/wide/narrow/crap/never fit right/generally make me look like a sack of shit with a rope round it.
Or I have the option of wearing a long leg covering skirt (to go with the impending blue rinse perm and set that all below the ankle skirts command)
Or I can wear tights providing Im a good girl who dosent leave the house and I take them off when I scrub the floors.
Call me fussy but Im none to keen on any of the above.
I once even brought a pair of supposedly ladder proof stockings from sparks.turned out they were big enough and thick enough to sleep in.pretty much like a pair of black thigh high socks.I gave them to my mum (who used them to make toys for her cats)
so thanks alot all controlling man of tight design,god forbid Id want to earn a living,pay my bills,walk my dog of an evening,go out and get slaughtered and fall in a heap in the street and vomit from time to time.
Im going to burn my fucking tights.you cant hold me down any longer!

more adventures of bornunder,this week..bornunder is bored and wants a pint

I want to be a hairdresser when I grow up

durning my 25 min stroll to work this morning I noticed somthing very odd.so odd infact I was pretty suprised it had previously escaped my attention.(however I probably shouldnt have been for people like me who dont begin to function untill theyve been awake 15 hours missing the odd minor detail here and there is common practice)
On my way to work this morning I passed a grand total of 12 hair salons!!! this you will understand is me discounting the two men only places which arent technically salons but barbers instead.By the by though as it is 12 fucking hair salons?in one 25 min walk,to put this in perspective my route to work dosent involve more than five different streets in total.bowbridge road,balderton gate(populated by at least 4 salons with a new one just opened) market square street whos name no one knows slaughter house lane,walk over.
How the fuck did they manage to squeeze twelve salons in that space?My sister owns a hair salon and when I was little I wanted to be a hairdresser,then after realising you have to spend six years on your feet for 15 hours a day sweeping up other peoples scalp discharge for £2.30 an hour before theyll even let you pick up a hairbrush,I thought...no..Bollox to that I cant be arsed.So Im suprised that a small town like this can produce enough staff stupid enough to want to go through that rigmarole for the sake of a lifetime of multicoloured fingers,bleach spots on clothes,loss of limb through scissor misdirection and an endless flow of shit conversations about other peoples holidays.
I digress,my intentions were clear then I began worrying about the staffing problems facing these salons,allow me to get back to my point.I have looked in the phone book for a rough idea of the number of salons in newark alone ( a town with a population of 30'000) and theres somthing in the region of 2o0 salons.this means that assuming everyone in the whole town goes to a salon at some point theres an average of 150 customers each.Hair dosent grow fast enough for 150 customers to provide a good profit.So how is it that all the owners of theese salons are loaded (including my sister who rarley lends me a tenner despite her BMW?)
it pisses me off.
but by far the most infuriating thing is that despite my 12 salon walk this morning.I also saw no less than three mullets,two pudding basins and 27 permed blue rinses (as seen on your gran)
Now thats what we in the corporate world call "wasted resources"