Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Poo Tarts*

*Thank you, Reverend Spooner

This is a two-part post. Part one is just about stuff and part two is an award. Read whatever bit you want, I guess.

News Part

My mother's birthday yesterday = playing Cranium with extended family = getting the Charades* card = miming 'Sex Kitten' more and more frantically as the timer runs out and my mother fails to guess. HOW does she not know the International Humping Gesture? Why do these things always happen to me?

*charades is not my forte, or even really my mezzo-forte. it is my tentative mezzo-piano at best

At work, got shouted at by gay escort! Was exciting. He was having trouble getting an ad placed, and had spoken to several people by the time someone transferred him through to me.
"Hi, this is Ally, how can I help?"
"You can stop dicking me around."
"Excuse me? I have just started talking to you." (At this stage I did not know he was gay escort, or would have made smutty dicking pun.)
And then I used Retard Voice on him for the rest of the call. You know the one - real polite, but like you're humouring a retard. "Okaaaay....okaaaay. Now. Have you gone to an agent to make this ad, or are you doing it by yourself?" Was v satisfying, you guys know how I like my little power trips. At the end of the day, though, he's a male escort and I'm not. I win. How unfortunate, to be a wanker both personally and professionally.

Also at work, turns out our spell-check hates God. Was drawing up a couple of ads for Aidanfield Christian School. Spell-check wants to know if maybe Aidanfield was meant to be Damnified.

Had first rehearsal back at band last night - it is remarkably similar to how it always was i.e. fuck Goff Richards. The second piece we played started off with a semi-high note that only I and the guy I sit next to, who is Army Band and has nice arms* and one of those ridiculously manly names, like Kurt or Burt or Thumb or something, played.

For non-musicians, there are three things that can happen when you are required to play an exposed high note (the note is exposed, not you. Usually).

Thing One: you play a beautiful, perfectly tuned note that gladdens the hearts of babies and makes the ghost of Beethoven jizz in his pants. This never happens unless a) it is a Thursday, the moon is in Jupiter, and you've just had your bikini line waxed or b) you have the wrong piece of music and are not meant to be playing at all.

Thing Two is when you spend the five minutes before the piece in intent concentration, playing the note over and over to get it lodged in your brain, etc. Then when it's go time you panic, don't breathe, and make a noise which is sort of like "ptthhhhTHURP."

Thing Three is my favourite. It is when you think, "This is ridiculous, it's only a note, I have been playing notes, like, forever," and you decide that you will Show That Note. And then you come in way too loud on the wrong note and make a noise that sounds like "speAH -hurp- BLATT" and everyone looks at you in incredulous horror.

Anyway, my sheet of music had the first note crossed out, and above it someone had written, "Fuck that." It had been partially erased but was still legible. Kurt/Turt/Smurf scoffed at this in a 'what's the brass band world coming to' fashion. I, too, hooted derisively. Did not mention that I totally recognised the handwriting. Totally my copy from last time I was in the band. Totally did not tell Burp/Lurt that.

*excuse the pun, but this is totally an Army Band thing, they all have nice arms. Suspect there is a large tanning-lotion-and-curls section of basic training that they have neglected to inform the public about.

Got home and Kate mocked the shit out of band, then said, "Sorry! I don't mean to insult your...kind? Your...race? I know you brass all band together. YOU ALL BAND TOGETHER!" Sigh.

Award Part

I have an award! The lovely Baglady, who was one of my very first regular readers, have bestowed on me ("the batty Ally," she says) the nicely named 'I Shoulda Been a Stripper' award. I don't tend to add awards to my sidebar because a) it is fiddly and b) it is fiddly, but they're nice to get, and this is an interactive one!

So here's what this award demands of you.

a) Post the award.

b) List seven personality traits, as evidenced by your blog.
  1. self-absorbed (mistyped this as 'elf-absorbed, which I am not). Am pretty sure the fact I have a blog at all more or less guarantees this: cue outraged folks saying, "What about people with news/music/politics blogs?" COME ON PEOPLE a blog is all about gettin' on the Internet and shouting, "Hey, everyone! Come and see how good I look!"

  2. slightly amusingly stunningly mad. I'm pretty sure this explains itself.

  3. easily amused. News stories about cheese and phrases like "Saturnine, I opined on the bovines," are more than capable of making my day. Most of this blog is just crap which amused me.

  4. picky. You do not see what goes on behind the scenes but every post is written, edited, previewed, edited again, posted, read, and then sometimes edited more. It is amazing really that posts are not significantly better.

  5. indiscreet and un-PC.* Quite apart from the blog-defining haiku, I often don't think before I post. Luckily when this happens Andrea emails me and says life-saving things like, "I hope those aren't your colleagues' real names," and "Maybe you shouldn't mention actual names of actual companies you work with." And then I go back and change it, and avoid getting fired for yet another day.

    *Q: what do you call babies born in whorehouses? A: Brothel Sprouts!

  6. amusing. Sometimes I read my blog and think, "Oh, this is quite funny, I have been quite clever here, it is amazing that this enormous brain of mine has not burst out of my skull." Sometimes, though, I read it and think, "Why do people read this drivel?" Which leads me to my final trait -

  7. vain. Every time someone comments or follows I puff up like a peacock and tell family and friends, who sigh, and roll their eyes, and say, "43 followers! Gosh. That's a lot." Also, I post lots of photos of me looking nice (or at least interesting) and not so many of me looking like bad.

c) Give the award to 7 others with notable personalities and let them know.

Because I think you all have notable personalities (apart from one or two, you know who you are) anyone who wants to do this one should consider themselves tagged. I don't tend to give people awards anyway because some people love awards, some are indifferent, and some get slightly offended should you bestow awards on them ("It's flattering, Ally, but I don't have time for this."


Baglady said...

I like the sprouts joke. A lot.

Also am impressed that you manage to make your posts feel so spoontaneous even though you edit them.

wv=ophili What musicians in the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra call the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra.

Tooting Squared said...

Brothel sprouts! HA HA HA! I'm TOTALLY telling people that joke tomorrow!

Joff said...

Your story reminds me of why I shunned the woodwind section in favour of much cooler stringed instruments*

*(designed for much much smaller bands, unless you are Steve Vai or Yngwie Malmsteen or someone equally pretentious)

日月神教-向左使 said...


Blogger said...

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