I'm kind of grouchy today. I should probably have gone and done something relaxing (like nap) instead of writing this but, well, it's too late now.
Xalion is my Danish friend & is sometimes also referred to as Samurai X (I had a dream that he and I were samurai warriers who could fly) and The Viking (self-explan.) He told me about a Danish myth that if you drink 100 bottles of vodka you are granted a wish, much in the Japanese, 1000-crane tradition but with less fiddly origami and more vomiting. I guess the idea is that you wish for a new liver? I'm pretty sure he made this up but I like it anyway.
Originally spelt Japanese 'Pajanese' and am now obsessed with the Pajanese culture. I bet their primary mode of transport is the motorized armchair. Andrea brought up her desire for a motorized armchair yesterday and I seized upon it with the eagerness of a small child. How much would a motorized La-Z-Boy (dumbest spelling ever) rock? Obviously it would have a recliner, but it would also have a little canopy, and a beer fridge, and a blankie for those cold nights coming home from I don't know, dates and stuff. I would be quite happy trundling along in a motorized armchair. I know someone will already have made one, but still.
In other news, Zach has posited that Swine Flu is the beginning of the end. The undead, flesh-eating end. Full story here - http://sleep500.com/item/367 - I don't have any of my bookmarks on this computer so I don't have easy access to hyperlinking thingy and I refuse to do it the hard way. Call him paranoid (or insane) but I think he could be onto something. Get yourself a plan, people. Holing up in your house is not a good idea; neither is covering yourself in bits of rotting flesh in an attempt to fit in with the zombies. Zach says oil rig; I say boat. Either way, when the invasion comes I'ma be at the harbour. Yo Zach I have a question about this: are zombies in any way organised? Because if they have some kinda quasi-military system then we're all fucked. I should do some research. Obviously I lack direction. I should go and get a degree or something. (BZom.)
In other other news, (or, if you prefer, 'news') everyone in my family (except me) is wearing a turtleneck today. Why do people even make these hideous articles of clothing? Why? Who wants to have a neck like a turtle? Kate came in and said, "Are you telling the Internet about my skivvy?" Yes, yes I am. Even though they doubtless will not care. If having a warm neck is that important to you, buy a damn scarf. Sorry to any turtleneckers in today's audience but hey, you should stop necking with turtles that is bestiality and is illegal. Also your sweater is weird.
Because I am apparently a five-year-old, one of Brooke's comments has led me to revive the ancient art of adding 'in my pants' to the end of song titles. I limited myself to five, but it turned into ten.
Anything Goes (in my pants)
I Drove All Night (in my pants)
Hungry Like The Wolf (in my pants)
Leather and Tattoos (in my pants)
Love Changes Everything (in my pants)
Tequila (in my pants)
My Happy Ending (in my pants)
No Ordinary Thing (in my pants)
Pretty Fly (on my pants?)
Think of Me (in my pants)
I feel like I should be able to follow that up with some insanely witty and learned historical/political joke, but all I can think of is 'Where did Napoleon keep his armies? Up his sleevies!' I am failing at life a bit today. Bring on the zombies.
I have a date this weekend. Anyone want to lend me their motorized armchair? Or tell me what I should wear?
No, not the jumpsuit.