I wanted a Raleigh Chopper!

Howdy Doody, Wow, this is a first, the 'blogging' mallarky. Well, those who know me, will know, I'll give anything a go so, here I is, 'blogging' (You have been warned, this is my first, I'm a Blog Virgin!) Where to begin? Ummm..... It all began back one cold, dark, wet day, back in the olden days, where women were women and men were, well men were bastards! Oops, silly me, shall I start again? Hi, Pickle here. Who? Pickle! You know, that 'thing' that lurks in shadowy places and emerges from time to time with something useful to say or something totally off the wall. Yes, that's it, me, Pickle. This is supposed to be about my sexuality, so run now while you can get out alive or pull up a chair and get yourself comfortable. (Ooo, bet you're running or morbidly intrigued) Guess I wanted to share some things with you, I have no idea why, seems like a good thing and I guess I can just ramble on aimlessly to myself if I need to! Where was I? Oh yeah.. Many moons ago, I was me, Angie, little girl with ringlets in my longggggggg black hair, oh so white socks, black patent shiny shoes and pretty dresses with massive ribbons, bows, Broderi Anglaise, or a culmination of alllll.... (Shudder) My Ma, she loved dressing me to the 'nines' and trust me, even at that tender age back then, I HATED it... EVERY damn Christmas or birthday or Easter or the dog's got a new toy today, any thing, it didn't matter, my Ma would find an excuse to have my hair up in ringlets before I could screech, 'OUCH!' I detested it, truly, truly detested it, it HURT! She'd wrap my hair in rags the night before the 'dog's got a new toy day' and I'd have to *cough, sleep on it. With enough ripped cloth to cover an Egyptian Mummy in, my hair would be wound that material so tightly that me trying to sleep with the tightest smile I'd ever known, yeah, it made for many many tears! How many hair ribbons I actually did 'lose' is like asking, 'How long is a piece of string?' I gave them away no sooner was I out that door and out of sight. I'd let my hair down, oh how I couldn't wait to let it down. She'd drag it up soooooooo damn tight, I could almost lick my own naval! No sooner would I return home, instantly she'd (Ma) be asking, 'Where's your ribbons, please, not again?!' Poor Ma, she couldn't keep up with it! :D My clothes did NOT suit my personality, I was a tomboy to the max, wanted me to have jeans and baseball boots but oh no, flouncy shit it was.. I had to endure that torture for MOONS!! Every Christmas for as long as I can remember, I wanted and Eagle Eye Action Man, a train set, plastic Cowboys and Indians and most of all I wanted, I would DREAM about having a CHOPPER bike. They were AWESOME and I nagged and nagged and nagged for this bike to be told, 'You're too little, even for a Raleigh Chipper, so NO, you're not having one!' This one Christmas though, for some reason I truly thought I was getting it, so imagine my utter shock when Christmas morning I ran downstairs to discover: Tiny fecking Tears, an ironing board and iron, little hoover, Barbie and all the pink stuff you can scare a child with! I was so NOT impressed, plus to add salt to injury, to be trussed up to the 'nines' resembling a mini version of Bette Davis in 'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane', was the absolute pits for me. Christmas, shitmas.... *I did get me a bike that year. It was golden, had a basket on the front, little tassel things hanging from the handle bars, a bell, a back saddle thing and TINY wheels and stabilizers... I swapped it on Boxing Day for a beaten up Raleigh Chipper and yeah, had to go un swap it.. :( ALL I WANTED WAS A RALEIGH fucking CHOPPER dammit! On that note.. Fin! :D