Friday, August 10, 2007

Toes Go In First

or, Thank God It's Friday. Look at me with my plebeian dayjob mind! I am sick of cutting up sticks now. Sure, it's fine for the first five hours, but the last three are sheer hell.

In other news, the novel editing is going well. By this I mean the editing of my Seminal Work, not the brand new editing or whatever that would've implied if it didn't imply the editing of my Seminal Work. My brain has atrophied. I have a headache and every time I close my eyes I see your face...no, I see vines. Got carried away there but I see vines, tangled vines, and sometimes my secateurs. snip snip snip swear internally. although today one of the guys lost his temper, shouted 'motherFUCKER' and kicked the vines, then his bucket. Was going to work a 'kicked the bucket' pun in there, but decided against it as I am WISE.

Also I Beboed. Every time I go on Bebo I die a little inside. To Bebo or not to Bebo? That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler to suffer the awful grammar and chatspeak of the detritus of humanity, or to fight against the sea of people who are adding you to their Bebo thing and sending you mindless messages, and by opposing piss them off?

and now I'm BORED but I can't be bothered doing any work, and it's still TWO HOURS until Footballers' Wives comes on. Gosh life is HARD.

I was thinking today about how if God did, in fact, make Man in his own image it was kind of a narcissistic thing to do- even if they were talking metaphorically. If not, surely I have a point? I mean, you make all these animals in all these weird shapes and sizes, cats and rats and elephants and so on, and then you stop and look at them and go "Shit yeah." And then you get up the next day, and you think 'Today I am going to make a creature that will DOMINATE all of this other stuff I've made. And this thing right up at the top of the food chain is going to look like ME. And there will be MILLIONS of them, and they are All Going To Look Like Me.'
It's more or less the divine equivalent of standing in front of the mirror going, "Hey! Everybody! Come and see how good I look!" I mean, I'd totally do it that way, were I God, but God isn't supposed to do the sort of things I'd do were I Him.

On that note, my father (actual, not celestial) wants to use the computer. This is fair as it is in fact his computer. I am going to put my electric blanket and my pyjamas on, then go upstairs and watch bad TV in front of the fire. It is going to be AWESOME.

1 comment:

a cat of impossible colour said...

I can sympathise with you about the internal swearing. Which reminds me of something in HP#7 - you know that random swearword near the very end? Well, my theory is that JK actually has Tourettes and usually all her sentences have a swearword in, but the editors get rid of them. This is the one time they let one slip through. I don't know if I have shared this idea with you before, but I think it's fairly revolutionary.

Am sick! And bed-bound! So continue entertaining me with blog posts :)