Tag Archives: football

Sleeping With The Fishes: The Horrors and Highlights of Internet Dating Pt2

24 Jul

In my time on Plentyoffish I have come to the devastating realisation that there’s a hell of a lot of incredibly boring people in this world.

When you first sign up to an account, you are presented with a number of boxes to fill on your profile. First, there are the basic details. Your location, ethnicity, hair colour… and of course the wonderfully ambiguous ‘height’ and ‘body type’.  There’s always the ole’ two inch-buffer zone to consider when it comes to gentlemen’s height. And probably other areas for that matter. They always like to make themselves sound bigger than they actually are. At least the guy I met in Liverpool a couple of years ago was honest when he told me he was 5ft 4, albeit too late to cancel our meeting and having to suffer the subsequent awkwardness. With ‘body type’ I’m not really sure what Plentyoffish were thinking. I’m sure even the morbidly obese wouldn’t choose to be anything but ‘average’ in the drop down menu.

Tall woman, short man.

The height thing can obviously also work the other way round. And there was Tom Cruise thinking he had it bad all that time.

However, it’s when you take a look at the ‘Interests’ and ‘About Me’ sections that you can really start to despair. If I had a quid for every time I read ‘Ooh, this is hard. I don’t really know what to put here, but here goes’ I daresay I could have raised enough cash to have bought my own harem of underdressed males to feed me parma ham and draw me kittens all day. There is nothing more discouraging than ‘meeting’ someone who can’t even tell me why they’re interesting enough to join them on a date. I have also seen enough cliches and beige interests to put together an idea of a brand new drinking game. I call it ‘Plentyofboringbastards Bingo’ and I envisage a gamecard where you need to tick off and drink shots for a number of dull interests, personality traits and examples of poor language as you click on profiles at random. There can be quick fire rounds too where the following rules can apply:

  • For every ‘lol’, down a shot.
  • ‘I’m laid back and easy going’, prove it by lying down and having tequila poured into your mouth.
  • ‘I’m a bubbly person’, well we can soon rectify that. Down some gin.
  • ‘I like going out, but also staying in’, sit in the naughty corner as punishment for their stating the effing obvious.
  • For any of the following interests, pour vodka directly into your eyes like Eyeball Paul in ‘Kevin and Perry Go Large’… ‘films’, ‘footie’, ‘having a laugh wiv me mates’, ‘women’, ‘socialising’, ‘music’.

I guarantee you will be wretching and hurling through alcohol in no time, hopefully easing the pain of your sad and lonesome quest to find ‘The One’ in this dearth of humanity. Obviously I’m not saying that things like ‘music’ and ‘films’ aren’t valid interests, of course I have similar. The problem is when there is nothing else to add to that. I’m pretty sure my old Tamagotchi had a more healthy range of pastimes and he died about fifty times. It does get a little demoralising when you’re engaged in a search for love and happiness and all you seem to find are living, breathing cardboard cut-outs of human beings. To be fair, my interests section may have gone to the other extreme. They read as follows:

Live music Chelsea FC Charity Shops
daydreaming kittens Jameson Irish Whiskey
British Comedy finding adventures in everything leaves bigger than my own face
trinkets haberdasheries pressing the button on fast food drink lids
stamping on mushrooms Parma ham tattoos
blogging spamming my friends news feeds on Facebook sandwiches
memories onesies bargains
squashing pie tins flat naps affection
the smell of bonfire night rescuing snails from pavement death writing lists
new stationary cartoon octopi things with cute faces
inventing Pokemon pickled onion Monster Munch puns
cake Fantasy Football  

I thought it might be a good way of weeding out a chap that might suit me quite well. Don’t you think?

I do realise that I have made myself sound like I would never meet anyone off this strange and ethereal site. Well you would be entirely wrong to think that, but I am saving that for another time…


Sleeping With The Fishes: The Horrors and Highlights of Internet Dating Pt1

23 Jul

I, Miss Lucy Anne Sanderson, am a serial internet dater. I’m really hoping that the reaction to that statement would be more of a ‘what, really? Why?!’ rather than a ‘Yeah, thought you’d probably have to.’ Contrary to popular narrow-minded belief, it is actually more socially acceptable to partake in this activity than ever before. The once ostracised figure in the pastime playground has finally been allowed in to play ball with the inner sanctum of normality, leaving poor old trainspotting and stamp collecting to get their heads flushed down the toilets at lunchtime. The other day my friend told me that she actually saw that happen in her old school. I always thought it only happened in the films but thinking about it happening to someone in real life is horrible- have you not seen what lives in there?

Yes, Willem Dafoe as a terrifying germ.

Anyway, I have been on and off the internet dating circuit for probably about two years now. I’ve dabbled with the classier brands like Match and eHarmony, but my most consistent place of choice is plentyoffish. It is free, but that comes at a potentially higher price of higher chaff:wheat ratio as well as having a large school of certain fish who are looking solely for ‘fun’ (I hope you appreciated my very subtle aquatic pun there.) Now, call me old fashioned, but I remember a time where ‘fun’ could refer to a game of Ker-Plunk or a boisterous round of Blind Man’s Bluff.  If you are considering internet dating for the first time, please do NOT under any circumstances be under the illusion that the pouting guy with his shirt off and iPhone held aloft in his picture is wanting to play tag when he asks if you’re up for some ‘fun lol’. He’s usually the guy with ‘I’m looking for a sexxi women’ as his headline. I’ve learnt that over-sexed men struggle with plurals on this site.

In fact, a high proportion of Plentyoffish is over-run with topless males. Sorry lads, I’m 90% sure that this trend doesn’t apply to the pictures of girls on there, but I’m fairly sure there’s a fair few who choose to wear very little on a daily basis. It does get to a point when you get a torso send you a message saying ‘great tits’, that you think to yourself  ‘should we just cut out the middle men and let our prospective chests get on with it?’

You may be quite surprised to learn that the above example of a boobs-related message is really quite tame in terms of lewd advances. Of course you get the overtly crude that make you gag. These surprises are like coming back from a fortnight’s holiday and discovering the freezer got switched off and it had chicken inside. Those messages aren’t befitting of repetition, just Google ‘bad porn scripts’ and you’ll get the gist. I have become quite fond of the hilariously awful ones.

Subject Line: “I’D LIKE TO…”

Message: “… kick your back doors in ;)”

Whether that was a suggestion of smut of a threat of burglary, I was really quite taken aback by that particular approach. Then of course there was:

Subject Line: “Hi”

Message: “You Remin me of a Toe.! Not because your Small & Cute.!
It’s because when Im Drunk I would bang you on the Coffee Table..lol”

Yeah, there’s not much I can say about that one. Especially because I’m kind of ashamed by the fact the grammatical errors possibly offended me more. The king of salacious messages was definitely the guy that mentioned KFC and wanton sex acts in the same sentence but I’m not going to sully my blog with that particular sentiment. Now, if I’ve got you thoroughly put off by this peculiar world you may be entirely horrified to hear that the aforementioned species are not, in fact, the worst thing about Plentyoffish. No, there is something much worse…

… To Be Continued.


14 Jul

So, just over a month ago I embarked on a very intense and all consuming relationship. I fell totally in love. It was such a wonderful month. I couldn’t think of anything else. For the first two weeks I was at it three times a day. There was so much excitement, so much passion, there would be little surprises to keep me on my toes. There were only a handful of occasions that I missed out on the opportunity to spend time together and that’s because of work. I did consider pulling a sickie once or twice. I didn’t eat regularly, I neglected friends, some days I would do my make up in only ten minutes rather than the standard minimum of twenty five. I would leap out of bed early every day to make sure I didn’t miss a minute of being together. Those first two weeks this all-encompassing affair would prevent me from doing anything else freely. I planned my time around my beau.

But then things changed. The three times a day petered out to just two, then, to my horror I had to adjust to having entire days without. My infatuation and such heavy involvement in this heart-wrenching love affair made this too much to bear. He did come back. But I only got to see him once a day… and not for very long at all. All of my spare time was spent waiting, wanting to be reunited again. Then last weekend after the buildup of emotion and my free-fall to the realm of obsession, it was all over. He left me. World Cup 2010 is over.

I am heartbroken.

Part of me feels that the emotional impact of that song is somewhat undermined by the truly bemusing series of images they flash in front of your eyes… perhaps a tactic to baffle the heartbroken out of their misery.

I know I’m just in that break up stage where you can’t believe its happened. Its all a bit surreal and you feel a bit numb. You can’t really take it all in and you feel a little dazed like waking from some kind of hideous dream. I found myself buying two-for-one Ben & Jerry’s in Sainsburys this week. Obviously this is never a bad thing, but ’tis surely the sign of a broken heart. Or someone who just has a hankering for ‘Phish Food’.

My room is now in some kind of order at least. It took a while getting round to it. I’ve got clean underwear and I combed my hair. I just let these things slide I was so blinded by all the endless, endless football. I can’t even remember the last time I clipped my toenails. In fact I was playing with them yesterday and they are really rather claw like. I nearly tore through my leggings… yes, leggings, when i misjudged the location of the leg-hole.  Something about long fingernails on men make me feel physically sick. I was sat at the back of a Magic Bus the other evening watching a tall, slight man with a long pinched face and shoulder-length grey frizzy hair…hair that was so dry it could be used for kindling… thumb a cigarette he drew from his shirt pocket. He had such long fingernails that his hands naturally rested in feminine positions. I heaved a bit. Then when he began to claw through his awful scraggly hair with them and I think my facial expressions went on socially unacceptable auto-pilot. To cut a long story short, he was one of them that looked like the caricature of a sex pest.

I'm not talking as bad as this... I don't think he would be able to get his bus fare from his pockets. I don't understand this. Nothing can ever get done surely? If we were all like you, sir, the world would fall apart. He looks part man, part tree. Part pasta.

And I’m not talking like this either…

Bit less stabby.

I’m talking like this….

I don't know why but this goes right through me. Not in the literal sense like Freddy's would, but in the hideous cringe sense.

I was considering whether nor not I would share what just happened in the locating of this picture through the simple search of ‘man with long fingernails’. But what I discovered was just too weird not to share.

There is a site called ‘Long Unpolished Fingernails on Men: This is a positive website about (men with) long, unpolished fingernails, and people liking long, unpolished nails on men.’   http://nails.hyperphp.com/

There is an ‘images’ section, where gentlemen (like ‘Hans’ pictured above) upload photographs of their nails in various poses, holding oranges, stationery, in front of a boot, maybe in fetish wear; this is all detailed in the running ‘News’ feed on the main page. But even better there is a steamy ‘Stories’ section where you have the chance to read some of the following…

The System Administrator by Matthew
I’m at work as a computer expert and have to fix a software-problem during off-hours. It looks like it’s going to be a lonely, boring night, untill the local system administrator turns out to have longer nails.

The Fight by Matthew
Someone gets killed for being gay and I am the prime suspect. I meet the long-fingernailed friend of the deceased and he swears he wants to use his nails on the killers.

The Amsterdam Man by Matthew
I’m dressed in jeans wearing my own fake long fingernails and meet someone into leather and having long fingernails too.

Matthew sure has been a busy boy. I don’t know how he would manage so much typing with his long nails. He better actually have these long nails he keeps banging on about or I will feel thoroughly cheated by the fickle veil of fiction.

Just to add the the thoroughly odd corner of the internet I had found myself in, it was exacerbated tenfold by a pop-up I hadn’t realised had appeared which automatically played a video of a German chef detailing how to make Chocolate Mountains in his native tongue with a mildly creepy translator voice-over running over the top, talking about softened gelatine, bain marie’s, shaved almonds and whipped cream. I couldn’t work out where these voices were coming from on such a strange website. Deliciousness undermined by peculiarity.

This has been the ultimate digression.

To summarise, I am a bit football-less and sad. I was going to go onto the wider scope of my heartbreak and go into the fact that I have kicked the internet dating habit. I have some stories to tell. But they can wait til next time. It might end up becoming a bit Bradshaw but I’m sorry. I’ve gone awfully embittered over matters of the heart at late, not helped with each time I see someone from my year at school has got married or is having a kid or their fourth year anniversary or something. I will try and serve up what would essentially be a horribly whiny girly topic in the most rugged way possible. Like humus made from gravel.

I’m Walkin’ On Sunshine!

10 May

Re. Yesterday’s Post.

“To anyone not into football reading this, I do apologise. For there will undoubtedly be mentions of it again tomorrow. Come just before six o’clock my mood for the rest of the week will be determined as finally the long drawn out affair that has been this year’s Premiership title race will come to the end. You will be able to tell in the first sentence how Chelsea fared.”

I don’t even need a sentence to tell you. I will let this video do the talking.

I don’t want to end up making this a tale of brilliance, a tale of athletic prowess and jubilation. Its not about outstanding achievement and trophy winning. That would be far too easy. Instead I shall harness this incredible mood of euphoria and joy and give you a run down of the top five things that make me SUPER GLAD. {off the top of my head… right now…}

5) Haberdasheries and Charity Shops.

Why not eh.

Aladdin’s caves for someone with such a flighty mind as mine. Many may think haberdasheries to be a peculiar choice, especially as I don’t really know how to sew. I’m getting there eventually like, but its more for the rainbow like effect you get from the fabrics, and all sorts of citing things like buttons and ribbons and braid all there for the perusing.  And similarly charity shops have loads of secret treats for snaffling out like a hog for truffles. That dress is five sizes too big? No fretting, chuck me a needle and bobbin. You’ve got to let your mind out for a little run. See the potential in things like a Simon Cowell of strange cast offs. Which is mainly what makes up the bulk of contestants on ‘The X Factor’.

They tend to have a very particular smell too.  The shops that is. Not the contestants. Sort of like that slightly musty and unpleasant but comforting smell; perhaps like a Grandmother’s dressing gown. Which you can more than likely buy there.

The gladness is made tenfold by the fact I love the texture and sound of the word ‘haberdashery’ itself. Which ties neatly onto number four.

4) Dictionary.com’s ‘Word of the Day’ email.

ses-kwi-PEED-l-iz-uhm/, adjective;
Given to using long words.
(Of a word) containing many syllables.
Turns out I am a bit sesquipedalian. And I would never have known this if that which incidentally feeds this tendency hadn’t sent me an email with this word in it? Where else would I have ever learnt this? I love words. Using them, saying them, the feel of certain ones. In fact, I find the word ‘glad’ itself makes me just that. I signed up to this daily email about a year ago. Its definitely in cahoots with Facebook update emails to infect and take over the entirety of my Hotmail. Like Mussolini to Hitler. My message count currently stands at 12,438 emails. Sort of makes me sad. I would love to pretend that it is fanmail or similar. It aint. Its just dictionary.com insisting to stuff me full of knowledge and Facebook perhaps telling me that someone I haven’t even thought about in 16 years ‘likes’ my witty observation on the bus en route to the gynecologist. [This is only for example. My lady garden is fit as a fiddle thankyou kindly. That’s ‘as a’ not ‘for a’. Filthy swine.]

3) Leaves bigger than my own face.


Come on; don’t try and tell me that when you’ve been out on a wholesome Autumnal walk, enjoying the most simple pleasures of the sun on your back and the wool of your scarf… and when you suddenly see a MASSIVE leaf… you don’t get excited?
Especially when he’s a crispy one and gets trapped in a gust of wind which sends him zooming down the pathway as quick as like when you walk on one of them airport travelators, making that nice scratchy sound across the concrete; and you have to break into a semi run to catch up and capture him?
That provides as much excitement as the old school Saturday night televisual powerhouse of Baywatch > Gladiators > Blind Date to someone like me.
Damn Springtime is ruining all my fun with its wretchedly gorgeous blossom. Get them leaves grown yeah?
The other day when I got on a bus a really tough looking stocky guy came swaggering on scoping out a place to sit and I noticed he must have been waiting underneath a tree because he had a very pretty and very pink blossom petal sneakily loitering on his dark hair. I did an internal ‘lol’. I don’t think such a look would earn much kudos in his local.

2) Pickled Onion Monster Munch

I’m not saying that they are the perfect pre-date snack. It might be quite funny to get through a few packets of these and

I forgot that the packet used to look like this...

then going somewhere requiring the close proximity of a professional to your breath maybe. Like the optician. Not dentist, that’s just taking liberties. And anyway, growing up, our mum always used to tell us to brush our teeth vigorously prior to getting anywhere near that chair. In my naivety I recall scrubbing harder than I ever normally would, as if that would rescue me from all my dental sins. Ten hail Marys and swap that lolly for a carrot stick.

Yes, these corn snacks fill me with glee. I am a fan of the onion family at the best of times but in crisp format these are nothing but spot on.

1) Kittens

Anyone who knows me at all should know that this is a given.
They have the combined fluffiness and cute face factors, and mewing and kitten paw gestures are the communicational future. In fact around 60% of tagging involving me on Facebook involves said gesture.
Browsing Ebay for ‘Hello Kitty’ related paraphernalia is like consumerist pornography to me. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with myself and I fall for goods so heavily and hard. If only I could find a man who makes me feel like that. I’m not saying that I need to dress him up like a giant kitten to have this happen. But I’ve not ruled it out.
Look what I found today. Yes, a two man kitty tent. I am going to Leeds Festival this summer with some of my Manchester family and if I could go there with this chap I daresay I would want an out of body experience just so I could go and make friends with myself for I would be that astronomically COOL.

Thats just a few things that encapsulate today’s mood.

I do however, have to quickly include a strong recommendation in today’s bloglet. Another thing very deserving to go in my list of gladness is my incredible passion for British comedy. One of my heroes in regards to this is a gentleman called Chris Morris… some of you will know him as the genius behind ‘The Day Today’, ‘Brass Eye’ and ‘Nathan Barley’ amongst other things.
He got together with the writers from ‘Peep Show’ to create a film called ‘Four Lions’ which I went and saw today and I cannot describe just how much I loved it. I ‘lolled’ so much I was in pain. There are moments of comedy in there that make you feel happy to be alive to be able to witness them. Have a look at the trailer and I’m sure you will be tempted to go have a look for yourself….

p.s. you didn’t think I wouldn’t mention it at all did you….??? CHECK OUT CELEBRATION AT 4’25… I told you the band thing was true!


8 May

Hello and welcome to what will be a very much football pie flavoured bloglet. For many reasons.

I do understand it may not be something that will interest everyone but it is very much a part of my life all thanks to the hours put in by my Dad, indoctrinating me with the ways of the beautiful game in between painting murals of Winnie the Pooh on the wall next to my cot and changing my nappies.   I sometimes feel it’s a misplaced passion which could be put to much better use digging wells in Africa or dissolving underground dog fighting rings but ya know… it is arguably much easier shouting cliched encouragement and scorn at some sweaty gents knocking about on my telly with a can in my hand.

If I had a spare grand I'd be with you. Said so on my 'Deal or No Deal' application.

It’s made me cry like seeing THAT scene in ‘Bambi’ for the first time; it’s given me more dizzying highs of ecstasy than a man ever has or ever could, and it was the reason for my first (and touch wood, only) fractured bone. An anecdote that I will save for a more threatening time. Would be a shame to scare you off now. But it involved an incident in Moscow 2008. And Stella Artois. (Even that’s a cliche.)

This weekend kicked off (wheeey…  Andy Gray has nothing on me.) with a few of the lads from work getting together for a charity football tournament. It’s quite strange seeing people you know quite well seemingly out of context. Sort of like when you used to bump into your teacher in Sainsburys outside of school- they’re not meant to have a first name let alone an actual life, with a house, with a kitchen… with cupboards to fill?! Well it was sort of like that. And we saw a lot more knee and shin exposure than I was used to. I felt a bit Victorian and had to go and have a subtle swoon out of view.

The exposed flesh had a bit of a hard time though with one buttock, two calves and a few knees looking like they’d gone ten rounds with a scouring pad. You don’t get to see stuff like that on Sky Box office. Astroturf, it would seem, doesn’t embrace a tumbling body like the hands of a hundred angels. If had known I would have brought the pan that’s been on the side in the kitchen for about a week now.  Mr Muscle himself would give that one a miss. Instead I had to be ‘Mum’ and cut up some oranges, called people son and/or champ and recycled the phrase ‘good effort’.

I got in not too long ago and have that really nice ‘outside’ smell which clings to your hair and clothes. You know the one I mean… like wind in the less rectal sense. It reminds me of coming in from the playground at school. We generally were limited to just running around in circles, what with a blanket ban on fun at Warren Mead.


Conkers were banned, bouncy balls deemed a nuisance and, I am fairly sure I remember a lunchtime playground monitor taking umbridge at the wind for making us dratted happy children too excitable. Not sure where a petition could be lodged over such matters. Maybe what with that and general grumblings at precipitation in this country it would account for the slow progress of the curses regarding volcanic ash reaching Mother Nature’s complaints team. Traumatised holidaymakers are still on hold listening to Crowded House’s  ‘Weather With You’ and this climate inspired classic on repeat:

The lads lord bless them didn’t really have much success today. They perhaps should stick to what they know best and keep them pints in the hands of gig goers. Incidentally, {or not so much for I just mashed together that tenuous link with the express  intention to use it to fly into my next topic with the swift ease of an lubed up eel being flung from a high speed roundabout in a kid’s playground} I got told something so ridiculous, so obscene, so incomprehensible last night that I actually asked to be given the punchline of the joke.

The following is lifted directly from NME.com’s news section.

Welcome to the Daily Gossip: your daily stop-off to find out who in the world of music has been up to what.

Today’s top gossip:

Chelsea FC football players Didier Drogba and Florent Malouda have formed a band together. Malouda plays the drums, while Drogba is attempting to play a bass guitar given to him by Wyclef Jean. Malouda says he wants John Terry or Joe Cole to sing. “We are just at the beginning of the process and trying to start something special,” he explained, before adding that he’s looking to Coldplay for inspiration. “I went to Wembley to see Coldplay and it was one of the best shows I’ve ever seen,” he said (The Sun).

After I lifted myself out of the stunned shock, I let myself think about this for a moment. I mean, obviously I love all of the aforementioned players. However. For the rest of the population that probably would describe them using a series of negative expletives, can we imagine this ACTUALLY occurring, but also with the added element of being in the style of Chris Martin? Who, lets face it, genuinely is a total berk?

But saying that, lets not forget the last guy to attempt a name for himself in the music business may have seemed a laughing stock at first but, is now in my mind, as worthy a name as Freddie Mercury or Kenny Loggins. Maybe what the kids would call a ‘legend’ in the same way as they would call Mr Blobby or Jedward legends… but a legend’s a legend isn’t it Barnesy?

To be totally fair, he does have the weight of that goal against Brazil in 1984 to his legendary status…

and I do know every word to that rap.

To anyone not into football reading this, I do apologise. For there will undoubtedly be mentions of it again tomorrow. Come just before six o’clock my mood for the rest of the week will be determined as finally the long drawn out affair that has been this year’s Premiership title race will come to the end. You will be able to tell in the first sentence how Chelsea fared.