Bonobo.

Frequently when the recommendations of brokers or share tipsters are analysed the picks of a five year old or a bonobo chimpanzee often do just as well or even better, so I wonder why I'm assumed to have the correct answer as to whether one should take part in a rights issue or buy those shares.

I understand P/E ratios and so on but its not my area, its like asking criminal lawyer about house conveyancing. So I make some bland comments ripped from the money section about using up your ISA allowance, diversify and ability to withstand risk. I'm not a genius when it comes to investing anyway.

While mentioning Bonobo's they seen to be a fantastic species unlike other chimps instead of having fights they have sex instead.

Bonobo 1. "Wow food!"
Bonobo 2. "Fight you for it."
Bonobo 1. "Nah, lets have sex instead."
Bonobo 2. "Ok."

This intercourse can be between the sexes or same sex genital rubbing. Its also unusual in that its female centric. Do humans need to learn something?

The Big Song And Dance Number.

I am currently disappointed that life doesn't just turn into one big musical dance number at the drop of a hat.

Would life be better? I'm sorry drifting off into fantasy land, its sometimes better than facing real life at the moment.

Oh god it's drifting into another woe is me post, the truth is I've been feeling fine recently and I'd hate to leave the impression that I'm permanently down. I have seen what I can do if I don't panic.

I also nearly outed myself to the neighbour. It was a nice bright sunny morning and I unthinkingly set out to retrieve the recycling bins which were set down in the middle of the pavement obstructing everyone. Looking up the road I noticed the whole road had their bins left in a similar fashion posing a tough obstacle course for anyone wheeling a pushchair.

At the risk of losing tranny credibility I don't put make-up on any more if I'm just staying in, so out I step wearing a black dress and jacket when I notice my neighbour with his back to me fiddling with the keys to lock the door. After very quickly backtracking though the door I realised that a few seconds either way could have been very interesting.

I'm sure there's a parallel scenario playing out where that happens. Perhaps there are many parallel versions of me playing out, yes I think I've read and watched too much sci-fi as well. The Lucy that transitioned, the bob that purged, the one where my mother gave birth to a female and called her Lucy and I simply never was there.

Overall I'm beginning to realise that it's a question of when not if I tell my close family. Yep I'm just another tranny who feels the guilt of not opening up to their family, perhaps I'm not as atypical as I think.

I spent the weekend in a retail mood but saw nothing in the clothes shops. I went into eventually settled on a black cardigan I thought might go well with a few things, although it may be a sign and that soon I'd be shopping in Bonmarché and M&S.

Blimey I do go on.

Over-used Songs..

A note to people in television, there are more than three songs in the world.

For the emotional montage at the end will you stop playing either Chasing Cars (stop playing Snow Patrol, full stop) or Hoppípolla and can you stop playing Clubbed To Death as well for every sporty or pacey montage.

There's a whole world of music out there. There's no excuse even if you're time and budget pressed, it's just laziness and a bit thoughtless.

(Alright there are more than 3 records, but there is a small list of tracks that are always used as background music).

Whadda You Mean You've Never Heard Of My Blog!

A year ago today a girl called Lucy founded a blog. There were already millions of blogs, most of them, it felt like, written by trannies.

I don't know what you've taken from my blog (if anything) but I hope you've found my witterings enjoyable. And there are some things that you've taken from here, perhaps some of the following.

1. Don't be a twat.
2. Self-service checkouts are EVIL.
3. I'm a little messed up.
4. My make up skills leave a little to be desired.
5. Have fun.
6. I frequently mishpell worms. (As opposed to those who have problems with pismronunciation)
   
7. I can't sing.
8. Tendency to have a Kermodian style rant. (Though it's never going to be as entertaining as the good doctor's).
9. I know which one's Daphne and which one's Celeste out of the millennial pop duo. And I can make many more dated pop references like that.
   
10. My grammar is sometimes all over the place (the product of an eighties / nineties state education).

I have enjoyed having the outlet, sorry some have been crap, lacked a decent argument or no conclusion. Other times I get sidetracked into talking about something else altogether.

Did I mention have fun? Can't be repeated often enough.

The "Outing" of Banksy.

Supposedly Banksy has been outed. Gasp shock horror he went to a posh school and is from the south-west, run the headlines, that won't help his street image they snicker. I am surprised given the propensity of security cameras in the areas he has been attributed as having painted or vandalised depending on your point of view, nobody has identified him before.

He joins the author of Primary Colours, the Girl With A One Track Mind and more recently Fake Steve Jobs, to name a few in being outed possibly before they wanted to, if at all.

There's a lot to be said for mystery, its more exciting. Perhaps that's one reason why conspiracy theories are so popular rather than the depressing mundane truth.

Avoiding Sellers.

I have several strategies when I don't want a stranger approaching me, wanting me to purchase or sign up for some product or service from them.

1. Using my mobile. Pretending I'm in the middle of a call or deeply engrossed in texting someone.


2. Acting like I'm in a rush, so can't stop.


3. Listening to my mp3 player.


4. Being deeply engrossed in a book, newspaper or magazine.

I don't wish to shun all forms of human interaction but there are times when I want to be left to my own thoughts or to get on with doing something. Its perhaps that I don't appreciate being approached by a total stranger suddenly acting like they're my best mate and foisting a product or service upon me. I respect the fact that your trying to make a living but please leave me alone.

Greatest Final Ever.

I am not a big watcher of sport on television, in fact I watch almost none. There are some exceptions. There are some exceptions. Firstly at the risk of ripping off the old Ben Elton stand-up routine, there is something powerful about a mute television, which means you have to watch it no matter what's on. The number of times I have felt my eyes drawn to the television set when I'm in a pub, silently playing an Aussie-Rules Football game not having a clue what's going on other than it features plenty of rough, tough antipodean men in tight shorts kicking a ball about.

Half the readers drift off thinking about rough, tough antipodean men in tight shorts kicking a ball about.

Lucy joins them.

Secondly there's the addictive nature of the world darts, which the BBC shows for a week around the new year. I think it's the showmanship aspects (the over-the-top entrances, the ONE-HUNDRED AND EIGHTY), the bling-tastic Bobby George and the thought that someone not in the top physical condition could be called a sporting world champion, that appeal to me.

The third has to be Wimbledon. The ability to come home and watch tennis for a few minutes each night is fantastic. With the retractable roof being installed over Centre Court watching some live play is guaranteed, however it would prevent fine events like last Sundays men's singles final. I'm not the best qualified to say if its the best ever, but there was some bloody good tennis and the final swung one way, then the other. The crowd from the sound of it, seemed to agree with me. With the possible exception of Gwen Stefani who looked thoroughly bored everytime the camera went to her (which was far too often). The women's final wasn't bad either, hopefully the seedings next year will better reflect who are the best women on grass rather than rigidly following the rankings.

London Transport Bombings Three Years On.

The London transport bombings three years ago today, claimed the lives of 52, disabled, injured and scarred many more in this most global of cities, where racial harmony, while not perfect does work pretty well. Annie Mole's very good London Underground blog has posted some thoughts about the events that day and the subsequent aftermath. I like many not immediately caught up in the unfolding tragedy, felt the full range of emotions course through me as the scale of what happened emerged. Today it's just sadness for lives lost and devastated.

The events were a terrorist outrage there's overwhelming evidence to support the fact though it hasn't deterred many from thinking otherwise. When somebody tries to debunk or rubbish a conspiracy theory, those who "believe" instantly claim your brainwashed or a part of the wider conspiracy. Why do people look for a complicated shadowy answer when the simplest explanation is often the one with the most evidence? It is something me and my giant lizard overlords have long pondered.

Perhaps the more troubling aspects for me are those who take accounts of what happened to them selectively and out context to illustrate a theory, or those use it to make a point about secularism allowing it happen. While you can spend many entertaining hours looking at such pages they should all be taken with massive pinches of salt.

Happy Birthday NHS.

Sixty years ago today Aneurin Bevan launched the NHS.

It's not perfect. It can't fund everything and sadly some areas like dentistry are withered but its better than what come before it and the alternatives proposed.

Hard to Describe.

Looking back at the previous post, I'm worried that it makes me sound schizophrenic or that I and bob are two totally different, distinct sides of me and never the twain will mix. The reality is that its complicated and I'm struggling to find the words to describe what all those cells are doing up there. My personality's are all mixed up to create one whole, my nagging doubts, my responsible side, my frivolous side and so on. I would love to pack all the gd away with my wig, without it hitting me at the most inopportune moments but hey, can't have what we want all the time.

I am gradually opening up, picking and choosing the moment carefully. Some girls seem to have the lifespan of an adult mayfly. Arriving, going out and then disappearing in a very short time. (Though admittedly that it is many years in tranny time). I'm taking my time, this is a long haul for me. Some have done it quicker and I congratulate them and try to pick up their lessons while following in their footsteps.

Enough of the personal stuff, here's Kylie off to get her O.B.E. I have mixed feelings about the dress, not sure of the stars. But after considering its Charlene that's wearing it I've decided it's brilliant.

I'm off to play Step Back In Time, followed by Confide In Me, Spinin Around and much more.

Bye for now.

Tranny or Work?

Sadly I really have to go off and do some work not spend hours trannying about. The work (and probably the rational) side of my brain won out despite the other side putting up a big fight to keep me.
I would have been great and I would have been happier but I can't let my work suffer again with another gender induced crisis.

Things Will Be Fine If You Don't Drink The Wine.

Humans tend to do very silly things when drunk and often come to regret their actions soon after. That text message or email you shouldn't have sent, the words you uttered and that song you shouldn't have sung.

I'm not a large consumer of alcohol, it tends to be infrequent and as such tend to get tipsy easily.

However I don't know which number glass it will be I can go from feeling fine to a little tiddled in the space of a few short mouthful's. I wish I could pin point that exact moment.

So far the daftest thing I've done is apply for a credit card, not sure how.

I wonder how many tranny's out themselves when diddled.