For the past few days people online have been talking to me about “Spit Roasting”. I say talk, but a more accurate description would be that they’ve been asking me if I’ve ever been or performed spit roasting.

I know what spitting is. I know what roasting is. Yet the example I was given was that of roasted peanuts. I don’t like peanuts. I don’t like any nuts. Well, not unless we’re counting lunatics. Hah, they’re great. When I retire, I want to go to a place with lunatics. I want to be suitably entertained when I retire.

I’m not entirely sure what roasted peanuts are. I don’t know the difference between roasted peanuts and standard peanuts. I’m guessing that the clue is in the word “roasted”. But taste wise, I don’t know the difference.

So back to spit roasting. The two main culprits of this are FriedCPU and CHerron, both of whom read and comment on this site. Today I took the gamble to actually ask them what spit roasting actually was.

Fried’s response was simple.

“Google”

So I went on to Google. I did a search for ‘spit roasting’. I decided that I was feeling lucky. I clicked the “I’m feeling lucky” button. It sent me to a site. I’m about to show you what the website said. Please, if you’re easily offended, look away now. I’m not copying this in order to offend, it’s just to show you an example of the website I found today. This is what the website said;

For those of you who, like me, had a less libertine youth than young Gemma, I will reluctantly explain that the spit roast involves being taken from behind by one hideously empurpled Premiership member while offering oral relief to an equally engorged length of throbbing gristle.

“Oooh, lovely,” is how Gemma recounts the experience.

Apparently Gemma is an “over-excitable office girl — the first UK female to hold her brown, yellow, pink and black wings by the age of 16, to have “blown” an entire men’s volleyball team in under 11 minutes and current holder of the world’s “snatch and lift” title, secured in Helsinki when the athletic minx lifted 2.3 kilos of lipsticks in a Gucchi handbag attached by a length of chain to her Matthew Pinsent novelty labial piercing.”

So I guess Gemma should know.

The only problem is that I didn’t. I read that description and I still didn’t understand. I don’t cope well with words like “engorged” or “throbbing gristle”. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a man, or because it’s late and I’m tired, or if it’s just because I’m often described as being naturally naive? But I guess I do need things to be described a bit more blatantly otherwise I don’t always equate stuff to sex.

Fortunately there was a picture.

Yes, when it comes down to it, pictures are more descriptive to me than words. In that picture were a thousand words, describing not only the act of spit roasting, but also telling me that I should have learnt by now not to ask Fried or CHerron stupid questions.

If you are still unsure as to what spit-roasting is, or if you wish to read the article for yourself, you can find it here;
www.therockalltimes.co.uk/2005/08/08/rowan-raunchbitch-seventeen.html

I will warn you that there is nudity on that site and that according to the lesbonic banner at the top of the page, the author ‘Rowan Raunchbitch’ is apparently “The UK’s hottest sex columnist”. I’m guessing that that’s why she uses descriptive words like “engorged” and “hideously empurpled”. What the hell does empurpled mean? To me that sounds like some sort of horrible bruising?

The picture couldn’t really have been more descriptive. I’m a very visual person. My mom had her 50th birthday recently and the day before she had a civil partnership ceremony. There was a great pianist there who I had a conversation with. He’s from Crewe (where I went to college) and he’s classically trained and his name was Douglas. Douglas is an audiable person – he takes a lot from music and sound, but he described me as a very visual person because of the way I see things and imagine things. Yeah, don’t worry – I didn’t really go into depth about the things that I imagine. I’m not sure that Douglas was prepared for stories of eskimo ninjas or rabid daisys or half-rabbit half-bear creatures that go ‘hoppity-hoppity-growl!’

This last week my room has become unnaturally messy. Since gaining Steve I’ve ensured that my desk is tidy. I like simplicity. That’s one of the many reasons why I like Apple Computer Inc and their products. What’s happened is that all my stuff I have deposited on my floor behind my chair. From where I’m sat, everything looks tidy. But behind me is a whole other story. I guess that based on what I see, if I can’t see it it doesn’t exist.

Something else I noticed yesterday whilst in the shower was that I was thinking about what I’d read about Steve Jobs. Around the time he started up Apple (I don’t know if it’s still true to this day) his living room consisted of a fairly empty room with a lamp. I think his bedroom was the same except with a matress (which is ironic because I have just a matress rather than a bed). I like simplicity. I like minimalism. I said to Dave today that “I’m a minimalistic person with a lot of stuff”.

He just laughed.

He said that that was the greatest excuse he’d ever heard of to describe lazyness. That’s not what I was trying to convey. All it is is that I would prefer to be in a room which, whilst not as bare as Steve Jobs’ ideal of his room, but instead just simple with few ‘things’. But I have too many things. Realistically, I have things which I could fill a house with. My room is taken up foremost by 3 computers (2 PCs and my Mac Mini). Then there’s my TV and VCR, PS1 and Sega Megadrive. And a printer. So that’s most of my electronic gadgets. Then I have books, magazines and over 350 movie titles on video and DVD. So yeah, that takes up a lot of space. Then I have some collectors items from Smallville, Back to the Future, The Lord of the Rings (including ‘the one ring’). Then I have too many clothes and bundles of wires and computer parts. I’d love for all my clothes to be somewhere else yet easily accessible. I’d love to get rid of my wardrobe and bookshelf and for them to be in another room. The same with my chest of drawers. In fact, anything that’s storage space I’d love to get rid of and put in another room because ideally, I feel that if there’s storage space in a room then you’re going to collect stuff with the knowledge that there’s the possibility of storing it in a room.

As a bedroom, especially if I were to share one with someone in the future that would be different. But as a study, an office, an entertainment centre, or whatever… for that one room I need simplicity to be creative and to concentrate. I also need to not be distracted by the awesomeness that is Mac OS X. It is everything I expected it to be, and far far more. And I’m not just saying that. In comparisson to my PC, well… there is no comparisson. I find it hard to remember how I was able to cope with Windows in all honesty.

During the writing of this post I asked Fran if she knew about Spit Roasting. That was just to tell her that [worryingly] that was what my next post was about. Then she said something that scared me;

“lol wich [sic] kind?”

which was quickly followed by;

“yes to both”

Both? BOTH?!? There’s more than one description for spit roasting?!? Just when I thought I’d figured it out, something else bites me on the ass to tell me that once again, I am wrong. Or half wrong. Or half informed. Or half uninformed. Or about to be attacked by half-rabbit half-bear creatures. I just don’t know anymore?!?

After trying to get her to tell me the other meaning, it turns out that it’s also when you have “a pig on a stick, rotatin above a fire or sumthing that creates heat”.

Why couldn’t Google have given me that definition? I was feeling lucky! That’s why I clicked the button! I guess I wasn’t lucky. No, instead I had to hear about Gemma’s exploits.

But that’s not all. Oh no. To the right of this you will see a banner. An advertising banner. This banner was displayed on the page by Rowan Raunchbitch (something tells me that’s not her real name). That to me, is one of the most bizarre banners I’ve ever seen. And even more bizzarely is that it links to a questionaire form on the same website. So if you think you’ve had sex with a celebrity then click on the banner, fill in the form and it will tell you whether or not you have, or whether you were just incredibly terribly drunk and instead had sex with your husband.

Unfortunately what it does not tell you is whether or not you’ve been spit roasted. Although if you have been spit roasted, then you’d probably know.

Then again, I’m not sure if I would. I’m still a little ‘grey’ in the whole spit-roasting-area.

I wish I could ask Douglas about all this. Douglas would know. Pianists know everything. I want to speak to Douglas. Someone go get me Douglas.

I wonder if Douglas likes peanuts?