Sunday, February 20, 2011

Updates* / **

*speaking of which, I went on a date last night but I am hesitant to blog the shit out of it because what if there is another date? Not sure this is likely as I talked at length on many uninteresting topics but you never know, my hair was looking pretty nice so that might cancel out the mildly pissed rambling.

**alternate title: The Burp of Choice. Unsure about formatting of little footnotering stars but there really didn't seem to be another way to do it.

Busy, bored, blah. B is for all of these things.* They are me. I am them. As my ex-colleague The Mad Russian used to shout down the phone from time to time, startling colleagues and customers alike, 'This is the BULLSHIT.' (In Soviet Russia, newspaper crumples you!)

Some days I think my brain is going to boil down into a little pool of bubbling goo and fall out my nose and onto the carpet (and Mum will cry, "Get that off the carpet!") but so far this hasn't happened. I have picked up a cold, though. So at least there is some kind of bubbling goo falling out my nose.

I have picked up the cold ("hey, baby," I said to it, "what's a nice virus like you doing in a face like this?") as a result of too many nights out Partying Hard and not eating enough vegetables and penning-up (it's the process of making something pent-up) rage at people saying, "Oh, so you're unemployed?" in the tone usually reserved for people who say, "I have to tell you a secret," then lean over and burp into your ear.

I keep explaining that my current burp of unemployment is a burp of choice and not an involuntary burp but they don't seem to get it - I think people just assume I wander around the house all day making jam and talking to the dog and plucking my nose hairs and ok yes that is partially true (except for the part about the nose hairs, which I don't have. No! Not because I plucked them, because I never had any to begin with) but actually it's a LOT more complex than that. Sometimes I have to get dressed before noon.

Also there are Things Going On Behind The Scenes but I kind of can't talk about any of them because I am a secret agent something about being discreet. I'm sure you can imagine how intensely frustrating this is ("what do you MEAN I can't put my entire life on the Internet?") but together we'll get through it. Either that or I will lose patience with this being discreet bollocks and tell you all about it next Thursday.

Look! Here is an elephant, painting an elephant.

How does he do that?


*Also, 'bum.'

8 comments:

Em said...

I knew it! There's obviously something in the pipeline(!). Is it the oscars? A book? Breakfast telly? Masterchef? I promise not to tell anyone...

chris.dadness said...

a) Wow, tenterhooks etc

but b) I am sure glad that painting of en elephant wasn't ALSO painting an elephant because that would have just pushed me over the EFFING EDGE.

Zach said...

Elephants fucking suck at painting.

IT IS ALLY said...

Em - Oscars. I will thank you in my speech.

Chris - THE LAST VISIBLE DOG. (Did you ever read The Mouse and his Child? I hope so, or that made no sense.)

Zach - What I want to know is do the elephants name the paintings themselves. 'I shall call it A Satisfying Day,' said the elephant as he laid down his paintbrush

chris.dadness said...

No. But it's a good name for a pub. MEET U AFTR WRK 4 MOJITOS @ LAST VISIBLE DOG

Birthday Flowers said...

This post has to be one of the funniest things I have read in quite a while! I used to work with a mad Russian who would shout like that, Oh how I miss his moods! :)

trixie said...

Aren't you in Christchurch? Are you okay? Worried.

Phil said...

When I was a poor student, I worked at the meatworks with a Mad Hungarian. He would often say: "ah ...fucken!" for no reason