Category Archives: SoylentDave

Another Shocking Post About Zombie Aid

Despite SoylentDave’s earlier efforts to expose the behaviour of Carl Whiteley and Zombie Aid, and despite an article on similar lines being published in the Manchester Evening News, it now seems moves are being made for yet another “charity” event (involving Carl) to take place.

Time for Dave to publish some more of our evidence!

Zombie Aid 2 – Carl Whiteley


Never Add Your Stepfather On Facebook

Brandon recently updated his Facebook status, with a line from a (cheeky) song. He should have guessed that Dave would tell him off…

Although possibly he wouldn’t have guessed what he would be told off  for.

(Please excuse my lack of Photoshop skills).

Dave Is Going To Suffer For This!

As I write this, my boyfriend is sleeping peacefully. His hair is tousled, his mouth is slightly open and all I can hear is the gentle rhythm of his breathing. He has no idea what cold and confused misery awaits him, as soon as he wakes up. You see… I’ve just had dream about him.

In real life, of course, there is no way that I’d find Dave in a suspect embrace with my Sister In Law. They’ve only met a couple of times and whilst the atmosphere between them was cordial enough, it didn’t seem to portend hanky-panky at any point. In fact, even in the dream itself , Dave explained that he had felt “ill” and that my Sister In Law merely hugged him in order to comfort him. My Sister In Law has been happily married to my Brother for about twenty-six years, Dave has never been unfaithful to me, and like I said, it was only a dream.

I’m still going to be in a mood with him though, I know it. I’ll try not to be, obviously, but it won’t be long before I’m slamming things down, giving him dirty looks and snapping sarcastically at anything he says. Well, I wouldn’t be having bad dreams about him if he wasn’t making me insecure somehow, right? And why am I dreaming about him and Wendy anyway? There’s no smoke without fire, maybe my SUBCONSCIOUS was picking up on something between them. Also, he looked like he was lying, in that dream. Oooohhh, I can’t forget that lying face of his…

So pity poor Dave, when he wakes up. Greater fear hath no man than that he should wake up to find his girlfriend has had a dream, in which he was unfaithful. Or at least, where it looked as if he might have been considering being unfaithful. Pity Dave, who will be confused, accused and shunned by the woman he loves – all for something he didn’t actually do and didn’t even think up himself.

Then pity me, because I was the one suffering that dream and he is to blame somehow, I know it!

Separated At Birth…

My boyfriend, SoylentDave, asleep.

When Dave is asleep, he doesn’t wear his glasses. Awww, he looks cute in this picture…

But if I eat too much cheese before bed, I have  nightmares that he will turn into…

The elf from the Leerdammer cheese advert

The terrifying ginger elf, in the Leerdammer adverts!

Nooooo! Hold the Leerdammer cheese at supper-time ! Keep the EVIL away from me!

Stats Maniac

When I moved my internet “home” to WordPress, I discovered a new toy – because included in my handsome blog was a Blog Stats page.

Oh. My. God. I am obsessed with my Blog Stats. I am SO excited by any “progress” I make. Did I get more hits than yesterday? Did this week do better than last week? How are my hits this month, compared to last month?

And then there is the list of “Top Posts and Pages”. Oooohhh… What do people WANT? What is my most popular post of ALL TIME? Click, click, click… My fingers are a blur, my brain becomes a computer. I study the Graphs, I hold my breath each time I check the hits so far today…

I need to get out more.

There is even a bit where it lists what people have put into Google search, to find your site (I’ve mentioned this before). One of the most disturbing was “puppies dogs sucking womens tits”… WHAT?! And that led them to me, did it? Let me point out that after two days of breast-feeding my first CHILD I gave up – so puppies have got NO chance.

Anyway, back to the Stats. Well, you are here now, reading this, and that means you’re included in my Stats today. I love you. Seriously. We will share a cigarette together later and I will make you breakfast. Tell other people about my blog and let’s have a threesome! You know you want to.

Dave has suggested that my obsession with Stats and Hits is unhealthy. He has also pointed out that “Page Views” are not the same as “Unique Visitors”, which means (after he applies some kind of weird calculation) that his blog at is probably more popular than mine. F**k HIM! I may not have the most famous blog on the planet but it is growing in popularity and I like my little Stats game.

I’ve already said I need to get out more, haven’t I?

Scrubbing My Rug

The weather here has been absolutely beautiful recently. Hot, sunny, hardly a breath of wind. I’ve had the back door open almost constantly (air conditioning being slow to follow Oreos to our shores) and the cats have been wandering in and out, along with a few flies. The birds are singing and the washing is drying on the line so fast I can almost see the water evaporating.

Happy days huh?… Not in my house. My boyfriend has red hair and pure white skin, that bursts into flames when touched by sunlight. I’ve never met most of you but I’m going to bet that you have never encountered anybody who complains about sunny weather as much as Dave. Since we have no rocks big enough for him to crawl under, he has been sitting in the lounge, sulking, and waiting for clouds and rain. Great.

Meanwhile Brandon has been hiding in his room, with the curtains drawn, playing “Red Dead Redemption”. The game only just came out, so he can’t tear himself away – but his room is boiling hot, even with a fan blasting 24/7. Yesterday  I visited him, with a cold drink and a breezy attitude.

 “Are you enjoying your game?” I asked with a smile,

“I would be, it IS a good game, but I’m sweating like Michael Jackson on a school bus” he replied. Some of you said he was “adorable” after my picture post. Yeah.

The cats are enjoying the fact that they can just wander in and out (we don’t have a cat-flap) but the heat is getting to them too. I suppose being covered in black fur is less than ideal in a heatwave. Stouffer is even floppier than usual and Zuul has cut down to about five cans of “Tiger” a day, because the heat is putting him off his food. Only the tiles on the kitchen floor can offer them any relief, so they keep coming in and stretching out on the delicious coldness.

As you can tell, it has been left to me to truly embrace the hot weather. I decided to take advantage of the drying power of the sun – by scrubbing one of our rugs, on the back path. It was very satisfying to see the stained old rug brighten up and I’m sure I got fitter in the process. I don’t know what the neighbours thought when they saw me kneeling on a rug in the back garden though – they probably shook their heads and thought I was trying yet another religion. I hung the rug up to dry and came in. Dave asked what I had been doing outside,

“I’ve been scrubbing the rug, in the back garden”. He stared at me ,

“Is that a euphemism?” he asked. Everyone is a comedian, in our house.

Ah well, I should go now. Walking to Church is going to be lovely in this weather, so I don’t want to have to rush. Actually, our Church is absolutely freezing, even on a mild day, so I think it will be a treat this morning. By the time I walk home I’ll be ready for the sun even more than I am now. Hallelujah.

Why My Boyfriend May End Up Killing Me

This morning I got up early. It wasn’t part of some time saving strategy (see last entry) – I was kicked out of bed by my boyfriend, Dave. The reason? Well, I hate to admit it but… Ugh… I am a snorer.

I snore for England. When I snore the emeffing windows rattle. Some nights, the neighbours think we are using an unlubricated chainsaw, to murder an asthmatic warthog. The sound of my snoring is not just unpleasant, it is a demonic wheezing and rattling combo, with a side-order of angry horse. I am oblivious to all this, because I sleep very soundly – the first time I know anything about it is when Dave screams, “Oh for F*CK’s SAKE!” and selfishly wakes me up.

I have tried to find cures, of course. Every night I wear Breathe Right snore -strips, that open my nostrils and makes me look like Deputy Dawg. I’ve taken pills and sprays, I’ve tried more pillows, less pillows, sleeping in funny positions and feeble attempts at self-hypnosis. I gave up smoking (albeit for a different reason), I was told that losing weight might help (I lost 60 pounds) but so far… NOTHING WORKS. I’m STILL SNORING. Even if I sleep in another room, my snoring can keep Dave awake.

I guess the next step will have to be a sleep-study and possibly a CPAP machine but frankly I don’t like that idea at all. It’s bad enough Dave having to see me in a snore-strip… It would be worse if he woke up every morning to find me looking like a tired, menopausal fighter-pilot. I think some people wear a sort of jaw brace, that makes you look stubborn, I suppose I could give that a try – but again it doesn’t sound very sexy. Mind you, I suppose Dave would be happy with any alternative to being kept awake by my current deafening orchestra of Satanic snuffling and snarling.

I wish I could come up with a Happy Ending to all of this but I can’t. Snoring sucks and I’m possibly going to be stuck with it until Dave cracks and beats me to death. *sigh*

OK, that’s enough of that, I’m going to have my bath now. Be good!