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.
Showing posts with label going on a date (in my pants). Show all posts
Showing posts with label going on a date (in my pants). Show all posts
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Date Tales*
*imagine if Duck Tales was about dating
Was talking about the date to a friend who shall remain nameless and they said, "Oh, I hate dates," and proceeded to tell me about their most recent date. She was running late, and had about 5 minutes to eat dinner and drive to the place that they had arranged to meet at, so she ate fast. Unfortunately when she got to the bar she realised that wolfing down her dinner had given her chronic indigestion, and with it, bad wind. So she stood outside the bar farting like a maniac in order to get the worst of it out before she went inside. Just as she produced a particularly noxious scent her date arrived... from behind her! Ha ha. She said, "I have never prayed for a sudden draft more than in that moment. I panicked and blew cigarette smoke in his face and he was disgusted."
<(")>
Anyone else have any good date stories?
Anyway, that wasn't what happened - my date was surprisingly normal! We drank beer & played pool & talked about music & are probably going to go on a second date. I shall refrain from making any detailed comments because I think I may have gotten drunk and talked about my exciting blog a lot and perhaps also given him the address (maybe there won't be a second date after all). We shall see. Also he is a singer and was wearing a really cool military jacket and is kind of cute and bought me a drink which as you recall was a very important factor.
Oh yeah if you want to follow me on Twitter, and why wouldn't you, it is Tarquin_Death. (The rest of the word 'mongrel' did not fit, and 'deathmong' sort of sounded strange.) This morning Itweeted twat http://twitter.com/home and FUCK IT WAS META. Wait is meta even hip any more? Pretty sure hip isn't hip.
Kate has just walked into the bathroom and shouted, "I'm going to have a shower! You can visit me if you want!" She finds the shower boring and likes someone to stand outside it and talk to her. Nutter. She is also very firm about not being mentioned in this blog but I completely refuse to respect that. She is, after all, family.
In other news, a friend of mine died unexpectedly yesterday, hence the lack of blog. I remember him saying at one point "Death = nap + forever" and that's how I'm trying to think of it, really, because he freakin' loved naps. He was pretty awesome & I'll miss him. But he wouldn't want me to be sad about it, he would want me to be a smartass, & so I'm just going to say ha ha, natural selection kicked your ass, buddy! I'll miss you. RIP.
ps this is not a call for sympathy comments, just wanted to explain lack of blog and make small commemorative effort. Instead of leaving a sympathetic comment, how about you email someone you haven't seen in a while and say hello because, you know, they might die. (By the way I totally haven't emailed anyone so you don't have to feel bad for not doing it either. Just saying it's a nice idea.)
Was talking about the date to a friend who shall remain nameless and they said, "Oh, I hate dates," and proceeded to tell me about their most recent date. She was running late, and had about 5 minutes to eat dinner and drive to the place that they had arranged to meet at, so she ate fast. Unfortunately when she got to the bar she realised that wolfing down her dinner had given her chronic indigestion, and with it, bad wind. So she stood outside the bar farting like a maniac in order to get the worst of it out before she went inside. Just as she produced a particularly noxious scent her date arrived... from behind her! Ha ha. She said, "I have never prayed for a sudden draft more than in that moment. I panicked and blew cigarette smoke in his face and he was disgusted."
<(")>
Anyone else have any good date stories?
Anyway, that wasn't what happened - my date was surprisingly normal! We drank beer & played pool & talked about music & are probably going to go on a second date. I shall refrain from making any detailed comments because I think I may have gotten drunk and talked about my exciting blog a lot and perhaps also given him the address (maybe there won't be a second date after all). We shall see. Also he is a singer and was wearing a really cool military jacket and is kind of cute and bought me a drink which as you recall was a very important factor.
Oh yeah if you want to follow me on Twitter, and why wouldn't you, it is Tarquin_Death. (The rest of the word 'mongrel' did not fit, and 'deathmong' sort of sounded strange.) This morning I
Kate has just walked into the bathroom and shouted, "I'm going to have a shower! You can visit me if you want!" She finds the shower boring and likes someone to stand outside it and talk to her. Nutter. She is also very firm about not being mentioned in this blog but I completely refuse to respect that. She is, after all, family.
In other news, a friend of mine died unexpectedly yesterday, hence the lack of blog. I remember him saying at one point "Death = nap + forever" and that's how I'm trying to think of it, really, because he freakin' loved naps. He was pretty awesome & I'll miss him. But he wouldn't want me to be sad about it, he would want me to be a smartass, & so I'm just going to say ha ha, natural selection kicked your ass, buddy! I'll miss you. RIP.
ps this is not a call for sympathy comments, just wanted to explain lack of blog and make small commemorative effort. Instead of leaving a sympathetic comment, how about you email someone you haven't seen in a while and say hello because, you know, they might die. (By the way I totally haven't emailed anyone so you don't have to feel bad for not doing it either. Just saying it's a nice idea.)
Friday, March 27, 2009
In hindsight, I should've worn the mustache
Date update! Are you excited?
Nah, me either. It was a pretty boring date.
That sounds mean but Andrew*, while a sweet guy bearing a vague resemblance to Prince William (if PW's face was shorter), was just not very interesting. He works at a trucking depot and drives 4WDs and these were his main two topics of conversation. Also, he really likes the outdoors (which I most emphatically do not (actually, that's not true, I like the outdoors for about 3 hours and then I want to go home)) & went on a lot about camping & skiing & hiking & other verbs that do not interest me. Also, he did not even buy me a drink. How rude. I paid $13 to sit for 2 hours and listen to a lot of useful information about trucks! Actually that's a little mean. Andrew was a really nice guy. Just not...well, exciting. I demand witty conversation and for my beer to be bought for me I mean come on surely that's not so much to ask.
Ah well, have another date on Saturday. (With someone else.) I am Back In The Game! Am remembering all the reasons I like Being Out Of The Game.
Main reason is that I am horrible at small talk and tend to start off dates with conversations like this, which is an actual example from yesterday:
Me: "Hi, nice to meet you! I think. Are you Andrew?"
Andrew: "Yes. Hi."
Awkward silence, in which I am tempted to do the Awkward Turtle (place one hand on top of the other, fingers pointing straight ahead of you and palms down, and rotate thumbs in a circular motion whilst saying "ooh...awkward") but manage to restrain myself. <(")> (That's the AT in emoticon format.)
Me: "Well, I guess we should meet properly!"
I then emit a hearty chuckle and thrust my hand forwards in a 'hail-fellow-well-met' fashion. Awkward handshake follows. <(")>
Andrew: "How're you? What did you do today?"
Me: "I'm good! Today I painted the garage - look, my hands are covered in paint." Pause while Andrew looks. Hands are, indeed, covered in paint. "And I feel like I did something this morning, but I don't remember what it was." Pause. "I'm, uh, going to get a drink."
I go to the bar, and (somewhat against my better judgment) return.
Me: "Oh, I remembered what I did this morning! I trimmed the dog and made myself a Fu Manchu mustache out of his leftover hair."
I actually said that. It's lucky I enjoy being single, really. <(")> (That wasn't really awkward, just gratuitous AT.)
I got up early this morning in order to Be Productive but actually I just started procrastinating earlier than usual. Whether or not this makes me more productive overall remains to be seen. Laptops rock! I have gone back to bed, which is kind of in a nest-like state at the moment, but am still being productive. (No I'm not.) I am like a small animal which is all huddled in a burrow, with just its nose and typing fingers peeping out. The birds have just come up (wth, they're not flowers) and started going "I'm awake!" or whatever it is that birds say. Apparently birdsong translates pretty closely to "FUCK OFFFFFF" which is exactly what I feel like shouting at the world at 7am as well, only I am more polite than birds.
Other news? I have no other news! Oh, wait, yes I do. Am gong out tonight for BestFriend's Husband's Birthday Dinner (BFHBD (biff-i-bid-uh, for any of you who are reading this blog out loud to your children and aren't sure how to pronounce that)), which will be nice! Am going to attempt to wear little black dress. If it fits - which it may not as it is little - I will post a picture of me in it, sans mustache.
Oh all right then, with the mustache. Sheesh. You people are so demanding. I am going to retreat into my burrow for a NAP.
Wow, my stomach just made a really weird noise. Like soup bubbling on the stove. What are you doing, oh stomach of mine? More importantly, why am I blogging about it?
*not his real name**
**totally is his real name
Nah, me either. It was a pretty boring date.
That sounds mean but Andrew*, while a sweet guy bearing a vague resemblance to Prince William (if PW's face was shorter), was just not very interesting. He works at a trucking depot and drives 4WDs and these were his main two topics of conversation. Also, he really likes the outdoors (which I most emphatically do not (actually, that's not true, I like the outdoors for about 3 hours and then I want to go home)) & went on a lot about camping & skiing & hiking & other verbs that do not interest me. Also, he did not even buy me a drink. How rude. I paid $13 to sit for 2 hours and listen to a lot of useful information about trucks! Actually that's a little mean. Andrew was a really nice guy. Just not...well, exciting. I demand witty conversation and for my beer to be bought for me I mean come on surely that's not so much to ask.
Ah well, have another date on Saturday. (With someone else.) I am Back In The Game! Am remembering all the reasons I like Being Out Of The Game.
Main reason is that I am horrible at small talk and tend to start off dates with conversations like this, which is an actual example from yesterday:
Me: "Hi, nice to meet you! I think. Are you Andrew?"
Andrew: "Yes. Hi."
Awkward silence, in which I am tempted to do the Awkward Turtle (place one hand on top of the other, fingers pointing straight ahead of you and palms down, and rotate thumbs in a circular motion whilst saying "ooh...awkward") but manage to restrain myself. <(")> (That's the AT in emoticon format.)
Me: "Well, I guess we should meet properly!"
I then emit a hearty chuckle and thrust my hand forwards in a 'hail-fellow-well-met' fashion. Awkward handshake follows. <(")>
Andrew: "How're you? What did you do today?"
Me: "I'm good! Today I painted the garage - look, my hands are covered in paint." Pause while Andrew looks. Hands are, indeed, covered in paint. "And I feel like I did something this morning, but I don't remember what it was." Pause. "I'm, uh, going to get a drink."
I go to the bar, and (somewhat against my better judgment) return.
Me: "Oh, I remembered what I did this morning! I trimmed the dog and made myself a Fu Manchu mustache out of his leftover hair."
I actually said that. It's lucky I enjoy being single, really. <(")> (That wasn't really awkward, just gratuitous AT.)
I got up early this morning in order to Be Productive but actually I just started procrastinating earlier than usual. Whether or not this makes me more productive overall remains to be seen. Laptops rock! I have gone back to bed, which is kind of in a nest-like state at the moment, but am still being productive. (No I'm not.) I am like a small animal which is all huddled in a burrow, with just its nose and typing fingers peeping out. The birds have just come up (wth, they're not flowers) and started going "I'm awake!" or whatever it is that birds say. Apparently birdsong translates pretty closely to "FUCK OFFFFFF" which is exactly what I feel like shouting at the world at 7am as well, only I am more polite than birds.
Other news? I have no other news! Oh, wait, yes I do. Am gong out tonight for BestFriend's Husband's Birthday Dinner (BFHBD (biff-i-bid-uh, for any of you who are reading this blog out loud to your children and aren't sure how to pronounce that)), which will be nice! Am going to attempt to wear little black dress. If it fits - which it may not as it is little - I will post a picture of me in it, sans mustache.
Oh all right then, with the mustache. Sheesh. You people are so demanding. I am going to retreat into my burrow for a NAP.
Wow, my stomach just made a really weird noise. Like soup bubbling on the stove. What are you doing, oh stomach of mine? More importantly, why am I blogging about it?
*not his real name**
**totally is his real name
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