My mother would still like to know

what happened to the set
of yellow clip on bows
she bought for my hair
when I was about six. 



She put them in a safe place
ready to use
when I went to a birthday party later the same week
and thirty two years later they are still missing. 



Yet every now and again
she still wonders about them
and does this wistful gaze at my hair, and I know
she's imagining me wearing them now.



Taken from a post by user SarahandFuck on Mumsnet chat forum, July 2013. Submitted by Uschi Gatward.

Problems

once i had a boil on my butt
and i went to the doctor. She told me

just to keep it clean and it will go away.
that was about a year ago now.

Now i get boils on my butt and in between my legs.
It is so annoying. It hurts when I sit down

and thats all we do in High School.
I am obese and my mother says

its because my legs are rubbing together.
She is probably right.

I am trying hard to lose weight
but these boils are getting in the way.

it is getting out of hand. Oh yeah, and
for some reason, which i don't know, all these boils

are leaving purple marks and not small ones.
I just need some help with this.

Is this a huge problem?



From a comment left at MedicineNet.com, 25 June 2013. Submitted by Jo Bell.

Forty miles

Christ I remember this.
I was living in Leeds
And had the tidiest girlfriend
In York you could imagine.

I used to wake up
On Friday mornings
And put this on;
I was only forty miles away.

What days.
What beautiful proof of God she was.
Beautiful, smiley,
Shapely beauty.

I’ll never forget.



Comment on Youtube video 40 miles by Congress. Submitted by Ben Mellor.

The year of living (dangerously)

It was the year I came out
and had a fling with a gay Maori
the year a friend nearly died of Guillain barre syndrome
the year I met a man who had
a decidedly unsavoury relationship with his dog
the year I saw waterfalls streaming down the sides of Uluru
the year I had a fight with a wild kangaroo
over a $1 box of out of date Pokemon cereal
the year two of my best friends had their lesbian wedding
the year I tried special K (nudge nudge wink wink)
provided by a Welsh drug dealer called Elfed
the year I travelled around with friends in a van
(named bubbles after a local drag queen at the Imperial Hotel
the starting point of Pricilla queen of the desert)
It was all madness but pure gold
Everyone should keep a journal
I’d like to turn it into a book
but no one would believe me



Taken from the comments section of a Guardian article on keeping a journal, 18th July 2013. Some punctuation omitted. Submitted by Grace Andreacchi.

N wen u get ur kids took away

N wen u get ur kids took away from u
u have no mates no bloke family hate u n
keep u from urban kids so u take drugs I
rant allowed my toddlers till I've had two yrs of
therapy c.b.t. no point comin off drugs yet
is there n now social services problem
my mamy two and my dad have even stopped
contact I've seen them twice in six week
once was Xmas day the other
was for a photo shoot I got done with the
picture for my Xmas present so I had to
c them for the photo I'm not allowed normally
all I ever wanted was to be a mamy ex fucked it
n now I'm just in too Much pain everyday
I c the photo I cry I'm a mess everyone
hates me anyway the public would
Deffo be glad meby ten people would
go to my funeral the rest of the town
would be glad coz I have done
lots of bad stuff but I'm 29 now
Give me a chance for god's sake



Comment from an online suicide blog. Submitted by Grace Andreacchi.

May your premises flood. Repeatedly.

May your premises flood. Repeatedly.
May your buildings cover be invalidated by poor workmanship.
May your staff be off sick, en masse, long-term.
May your food poisoning leave you with a colostomy bag.
May your dogs bite you and may you be underinsured.
May your homes burn, and your insurance company welsh on the deal.
May you be hit by an uninsured driver, while doing something quite witless to invalidate the claim.
May you be caught speeding, texting and pissed simultaneously.
Pay the man's widow what you owe her, scumbags,
and Karma might be kind.



A comment on the Change.org petition, 'Friends Life: Pay out Nic Hughes' critical illness policy'. Comment posted 5 December 2012. 'And' deleted (line 2), lines 5 and 6 truncated. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

Dearest Jamie

I bought my lovely boyfriend Darren
your book for Christmas and i haven't
had to cook a meal
since

He went through the cupboards
to find out what we were missing
from your list and he even invested
£100.00 buying a magimix.

He stopped smoking Monday
and finds thinking about what he needs
to buy to prepare the evening meal
a good distraction from the withdrawal
symptoms.

Now i don't want you or your readers
to think that i'm complaining
because
i know i've got it made (he even hoovers,
irons and cleans the bathroom)
the only problem i'm having is that
everything
is so tasty i'm clearing my plate
and i'm worried i'm going to be
the size
of a house

We're moving to a new home next month
and he's informed me he'd like a black
gloss kitchen and a range to cook on

He bought me black diamonds,
I think he's a keeper.



Taken from a comment left on a dumpling recipe on Jamie Oliver's website on the 7th January 2009. Some exclamation marks removed. Submitted by Nikki.

Petrifaction

This happens to bone marrow
in the hollow
bird-y
dinosaur bones,
it’s very pretty.
it’ll seem like a solid
black fossil but
if you accidentally
break
it
you see it looks
like it’s filled with crystals



Taken from a comment on a blog post about petrification, written on the 21st December 2011. Submitted by Haley Patail.

No Comment

A large percentage of what you claim
happens to be astonishingly accurate
and it makes me ponder why I hadn’t
looked at this in this light previously.

This article really did turn the light
on for me as far as this specific
subject goes. But there is one point I am
not necessarily too cozy with

so whilst I make an effort to reconcile
that with the main theme of your point, permit
me to see exactly what all the rest
of your visitors have to point out.



A spam comment from the blog SmyWord. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

Measured

Vain and
shallow people
treating other vain and
shallow people in a vain and
shallow

way.



A comment on the Guardian website in response to Dating website for beautiful people dumps 30,000 members. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

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A spam comment posted to my content strategy blog SmyWord on 13 April 2010. The links are removed but the blue colour of the links left in. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

Over Vegas

Far above the bored, scuffling, T-Shirt
and cellulite wearing masses flown in
from trailer parks across the nation,
ten-story video signs project
images of dancing chorus lines,
rhinestone-studded; of strippers with plain faces,
their makeup having been ladled on
with a bricklayer’s trowel to distract onlookers
from that fact; and of seemingly never
ending traveling shots of cafeteria
cuisine. These electronic billboards, run
by computer servers filling concrete
catacombs beneath the hotel casinos,
also occasionally announce the LIVE!
ON STAGE! appearance of what look like
knuckle-dragging brutes bumbled in from
the Pleistocene via a time warp.

At gutter level, meticulously
unkempt somebodies lumber in and out
of the darkened mouths of caves, which are
the doorways of momentarily trendy
nightclubs. Nearby, an imitation
volcano erupts. Light from the fake lava
plays on tattoos, once popular among
pier corner whores but which now adorn
the delicate ankles of long-limbed women
with million dollar smiles spread across
dime-store faces. 



Level with the gutter runs
an asphalt Boulevard over which rides
the latest in high technology
metallurgical skill and, after market,
pimped-up shrines to the owners’ vanity
and insecurity. A crystal angel
sparkles as it swings from the rear-view
mirror of one modern convertible,
just stopped at a red light. Chrome-framed mud flaps
shine behind the rear wheels of a pickup truck
as it passes, its retreating back window
plastered with the white decal of a Christian
icon surrounded by a delicate
wreath of roses.

Traveling north, the
Boulevard becomes a Main Street as it turns
into yesterday's downtown. More neon
cascades down the sides of dirty walls, red
and yellow light splashing the windows
of the Greyhound bus station across the street.
Turning east, a crumbling side street shortly
passes first a Bronx modern city hall,
smug and prim in its paternalism;
then, the rotting remains of retail ventures;
paint peeled apartment flophouses; and,
finally, a fence festooned with hubcaps.
Farther on, cracker box houses—their windows
and doors wrought iron barred—traipse down a slovenly
slope, the value of the lots on which they slouch
officiously inflated by the local
property appraiser. A fluorescent glow
haunts the sidewalk outside a corner
Laundromat, in whose ghostly glimmer stand
the emaciated and the bovine.
Expensive headers gracing the butt-end
of automotive wrecks shriek by. The street
soon propagates a rat’s maze of walled-up drives,
lanes and circles. Within those cement bulwarks
erected to a fastidious paranoia
and a paucity of police presence,
lie neighborhoods of tract housing: two thousand
square feet of uniform, building-code-commanded,
Spanish-styled homes sitting on two thousand
one hundred square feet of desert dirt,
goose-stepping off into the darkness.

Welcome to fatuous Las Vegas!

Someone called Steven posted this comment (#203) on The Big Picture photo blog, 12 March 2010, in response to aerial photographs of New York City and Las Vegas. I added a few missing hyphens. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

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These are recent spam comments, with the authors in parentheses, posted on my content strategy blog SmyWord. Submitted by Gabriel Smy.

I Dropped A Caterpillar

I dropped a caterpillar
Into a spider's web
When I was six years old.
It was horrific.

From that point on,
I deserved all the ill the world could throw at me.

By Jim. Taken from Objectify's comment in response to the Guardian's article 'Bold Gill sans sense'.