My salad dressing days

Well, as many as I can remember…(my own personal favourites are emboldened).

Nothing but tittle-tattle
Deep sea trawler of the human psyche
Titter ye might…
Yeah, like, whatever
Please call me Urb – nobody else does
Please don’t read this blog – it’s awful
Never knowingly a member of the cognoscenti
[MENSA membership application still pending]
Shoes for breakfast, shoes for lunch…
Plundering my personal life for your amusement
Urbane schtick
**Smartass Subheader Syndication Service temporarily unavailable**
Does my blog look big in this?
With shoes like this, who needs handbags?
Add 1g of sodium chloride (to taste)
Momma always says this blog’s like a box of chocolates…
Little more than the quotidian
Silliness abounds…
Ransacking my forthcoming memoirs for your benefit
Because nothing is sacred (but if it is, I always check with Mr Chick first)
If you blog it, they will run
(I’m going to) Hell in a handbag (care to join me?)
or Suburban Hick…YOU decide!
A dedicated follower of the Pied Piper
Bourbon? *hick*
Sniggers-a-plenty* (*mostly at my expense)
To blog, perchance to write something profound and insightful
A flibberty-gibbert, a will o’ the wisp, a clown…
‘Tis pity she’s a bore
You are in the presence of greatness, er, lateness
Nothing if not a nihilist
Good, clean (pre-watershed, family-friendly) fun
What’s not to love?
Fiddle dee dee. Fiddle dee dee. The fly has married the bumble bee.
Now with 50% more nonsense!
I got the laryngitis!
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling (down)
This blog is on ice (come hither and rejoice in the Arctic blast before everything melts)
Lower your expectations to avoid disappointment
(Does what it says on the tin)
(Baedeker in sweaty palm, she sets off on her pan-continental holiday…)
The chick has come home to roost
(In which I do not talk about children or cervical smears)
A short descent into mediocrity
Unashamedly middle brow
Unashamedly shameless
Just a little bit rocknroll. A little. Not much. Well, actually, not at all.
I live in a city. I’m female. That’s it.
Now there’s a face for radio…
Hoist by her own pedestal
It’s not rocket salad
It’s lamb’s lettuce and radicchio
See if I care…
Celebrating two years of inane witterings
A blog in terminal decline
Mother, daughter, sister, blogger
It may be nonsense, but it’s high quality nonsense
Founder of the Keep Daniel Radcliffe Pre-Pubescent Campaign
Lowering the tone of the blogosphere
Mindless idiocy
Aspartame fries the brain – choose refined white sugar
Widely read in Kyrgyzstan
Founder of the Campaign To Reclassify Pastry As A Healthy Eating Option
Tenuously connected to the Last Emperor of China!
What in tarnation…?
Stay Pale For The Planet (And Feel Smug To Boot)
Bile-laced and candy-coated family fun!
Blah blah blah
Stand up for the key change – it worked for Boyzone

Oh Mark, oh Mark,
It isn’t right
That you present the news each night.
You really should be
Hanging out
In places smote with war and drought.

You look far better
With a tan
Squatting on the back of a van,
Ducking to dodge
The mortar fire,
Wearing your camouflaged attire.

But stuck inside,
Wearing a suit?
It really just does not compute.
Hang up your tie!
Forget this racket!
And put back on your green flak jacket!

[For anyone who reads this and thinks ‘eh?’, click here.]