Bloody hell. Even I'VE got on my own nerves just lately and my extreme grumptitude and twitchiness culminated yesterday in 2 separate people buying me presents in an attempt to appease me! My pal Bison, when he heard, likened the situation to primitive tribes people making offerings to an angry deity! How rude! He then went on to wonder why they don't seem to appreciate that I'm some sort of PRINCESS! Again, HOW RUDE! Just 'cause I demanded he make me a crown for Christmas. I have a vision of me wearing it when I perform stand up. Of course, I wouldn't make reference to the fact I'm wearing a crown 'cause it would be the most natural thing in the world for me.
I guess you will be wanting to hear about my appalling behaviour now.
This isn't an appalling bit but a couple of days ago I had to visit a family at home. A nice family in fact, but as I got up to leave their 12 year old son sort of launched himself and flung his arms around my waist, giving me a gigantic hug! Well, I have a fear of being touched at the best of times and this situation made me turn proper mental. I made a sort of forced high pitched laugh and at speed said
"Oooh, I don't get hugged very often. Never in fact. Actually, I'm more likely to be found diving out of the way as people drive at me at high speed!"
What the hell was I talking about? For.God.Sake!
...that hasn't happened for AGES now.
I then sort of stumbled out of the house, still giggling in a weird forced, high pitched manner, got into my car and nearly crashed. See? I've gone wrong - someone only has to be nice to me for a split second and I turn into bumbling idiot!
The next day I was in a near fatal, terrible car accident. Before I tell you about that I have to share my worries about ants. Consider the ant. When one comes into your house or something and you let it out somewhere else, does it find it's way home or does it try to move in with new ants. If I transported an ant to another town and released him what would happen? Where would he live? Do they have their own hollows within their colony or do they just curl up together? Would they know he was an out of towner and shun him or would they sort of say hi (in ant language). I dunno, I just worry.
So yeah, the car accident. It was a weird one. The car was covered in frost and I just sort of leaned in and put the key in the ignition to get the de-frost thingie going. Unfortunately it shot to life and hit the wall, still making a high pitched revving sound and dragging the front of the car along the house. SHIT! I only had one bum cheek in the car at this point so I quickly got in and turned the steering wheel away from the house but then it shot forward, hit a stone post, sped across the pavement and into the main road. As the car was still totally iced over I could see nothing as I sat trying to regain control over the runaway vehicle. I have an outstanding memory of being in a beautiful white cave but traveling at high speed whilst trying to stop. Eventually I did stop it, half in the road and half on the pavement. When I exited the car I saw a woman with a car full of children with her eyes on stalks sort of stalled in the middle of the road. I'm bloody lucky I tell you. Kids pass my house to go to school - didn't hit one of them or any other pedestrian, I missed the woman in her car, the row of parked cars on the other side of the road, the HOUSE on the other side of the road and a large street sign. Furthermore, I didn't get to put my seat belt on and could have gone through the windscreen. Bloody hell!
I still don't know what happened. I never leave my car in gear and I'd have had to have my foot on the accelerator. All I can assume is that it wasn't fully out of gear and popped back in and that as I wasn't sitting in the seat properly I perhaps did press the accelerator. That or else the car is possessed. My last car was possessed and it eventually tried to kill me in a fiery ball.
As for the grumpiness, yeah, I've been grumpy, twitchy and confrontational. So confrontational in fact that one of my work colleagues bought me a Hello Kitty toy after I had turned my grumptitude on her yesterday. I actually called my housemate (the Tidness Nazi) to warn her that I was pretty much evil. She promptly went out and bought me some baby gerbils! She knows I love and miss having little gerbs around. They cheered me up no end.
Today I was less grumpy, more twitchy and I ended up throwing myself to the floor a number of times and lying there pretending to be dead. My colleagues declined my request to draw a chalk mark around me. I eventually got back up and pulled my dress up over my head in an act of disrespect and defiance. Between you and me, I even mooned at some of them when I felt they were being mean and un-supportive. I can see that this isn't proper behaviour for a lovely lady like me but when I'm twitchy I can't control myself. Y'know, I don't think I can be trusted to wear a dress....
Sketty (30 September - ?)isn’t a 17th Century English naval administrator or Member of Parliament. Furthermore, she has never met King Charles II or King James II. This may be due to both being dead at the time of her life. In fact, this isn’t so much a diary but the unedited spewings from the brain of one of the Century’s leading cretins. Some of it may develop into comedy unless I get to spend time in a lovely facility where someone will give me dinner.
Thursday 16 December 2010
Sunday 12 December 2010
Wouldn't it be weird..
Oh Lordy, my internal dialogue has been off on one again. Sorry, I have to write it down so it gets out of my head. This time it wasn't so much a 'What would I do if....', it was more of a 'Wouldn't it be weird if...'.
Ok, it started off when I was in the shower and, for some reason, I began thinking of that film with Arnie. Oh shit, what's it called? Hang on............Predator? It's the alien one and it couldn't see him when he was wet. I started thinking how weird it would be if suddenly my house was over-run with weird small aliens who killed everyone else but couldn't see me 'cause I was in the shower. For a while I figured I'd just watch them through the glass with a smug look on my face as they ran around the bathroom, giving them the finger 'cause I was safe. Then the realisation hit me that for this to happen I'd have to not be shocked to see the aliens and have advanced knowledge that it was the water thing that was keeping me safe. I then thought that I'd end up with trench foot as I'd have to live in a running shower for god knows how long! What would I eat? No nutrition in Radox Lavender shower gel. At least I could have a wee.
Then I began to think about an alternative alien fear (what's with the aliens thing?). What, right, if I was in the bathroom and aliens decided they wanted me for some kind of alien zoo type thing. I think I was thinking about A.I. at this point but I can't think of the part this might relate to. Oh hang on, it's the end when they want to understand about human life at the time the little robot kid was around. Yeah, so I'm in the bathroom and they detach it and fly it away to wherever but they don't understand humans very well so they scan me and every day provide me with exactly the same thing I've already eaten that day.
I'd be buggered if I was scanned yesterday. I had 2 stale biscuits of a nondescript variety. They were the shit ones left after all the good ones had been scoffed from a selection tin, 3 slices of pizza and some bacon flavoured crisps. I then threw up (due to my shit digestion). That was it, apart from some water, no goodness, no vitamins or minerals and definitely no roughage! Bloody hell, I'd have Rickets after 4 days if I had to live on that lot for the rest of my life. Rickets and impacted bowels no doubt. I vowed to myself that I would eat some more varied foodstuffs just in case this scenario should ever happen. Oh yeah, and I'd need to ensure I introduced some sweets into my diet for the same reason. Eternity in an alien zoo with no feckin sweets would be hell on not-earth.
I recognise this stuff sounds like the ramblings of a strange person but I'm sure everyone thinks things like this, they just don't tell people.
There was something else I wanted to share but I can't remember what it is now. Perhaps tomorrow
Ok, it started off when I was in the shower and, for some reason, I began thinking of that film with Arnie. Oh shit, what's it called? Hang on............Predator? It's the alien one and it couldn't see him when he was wet. I started thinking how weird it would be if suddenly my house was over-run with weird small aliens who killed everyone else but couldn't see me 'cause I was in the shower. For a while I figured I'd just watch them through the glass with a smug look on my face as they ran around the bathroom, giving them the finger 'cause I was safe. Then the realisation hit me that for this to happen I'd have to not be shocked to see the aliens and have advanced knowledge that it was the water thing that was keeping me safe. I then thought that I'd end up with trench foot as I'd have to live in a running shower for god knows how long! What would I eat? No nutrition in Radox Lavender shower gel. At least I could have a wee.
Then I began to think about an alternative alien fear (what's with the aliens thing?). What, right, if I was in the bathroom and aliens decided they wanted me for some kind of alien zoo type thing. I think I was thinking about A.I. at this point but I can't think of the part this might relate to. Oh hang on, it's the end when they want to understand about human life at the time the little robot kid was around. Yeah, so I'm in the bathroom and they detach it and fly it away to wherever but they don't understand humans very well so they scan me and every day provide me with exactly the same thing I've already eaten that day.
I'd be buggered if I was scanned yesterday. I had 2 stale biscuits of a nondescript variety. They were the shit ones left after all the good ones had been scoffed from a selection tin, 3 slices of pizza and some bacon flavoured crisps. I then threw up (due to my shit digestion). That was it, apart from some water, no goodness, no vitamins or minerals and definitely no roughage! Bloody hell, I'd have Rickets after 4 days if I had to live on that lot for the rest of my life. Rickets and impacted bowels no doubt. I vowed to myself that I would eat some more varied foodstuffs just in case this scenario should ever happen. Oh yeah, and I'd need to ensure I introduced some sweets into my diet for the same reason. Eternity in an alien zoo with no feckin sweets would be hell on not-earth.
I recognise this stuff sounds like the ramblings of a strange person but I'm sure everyone thinks things like this, they just don't tell people.
There was something else I wanted to share but I can't remember what it is now. Perhaps tomorrow
Monday 6 December 2010
Dating
I guess most people are aware that I'm terminally single and although I bang on about it quite a lot, it really doesn't bother me. To be honest, I'd lose a sizable chunk of my act if I met someone and do believe I genuinely have gone a bit wrong by now.
I doubt having a bloke would work for me much any how.
As I've said in my act (accidentally, the first time, after getting carried away and asking the audience if anyone was up for a shag, and then becoming scared by the overwhelming positive response), I'm probably all healed up now and wouldn't be good for anything. I was discussing this with people at work today and revealed that, over the years, I have been able to collect a whole heap of hang ups and now, the only bloke I think I could relax with would have to be that kid who plays a mean pin ball (you know him, the deaf, dumb and blind one).
Of course, the sensible part of me says that I can't go on like this and that I need to have word with myself. I should slap myself until I beg myself for mercy but then I wouldn't GIVE myself mercy, I'd just keep on slapping until I cried, tears of pain mingling with confusion as to why I wasn't stopping with the auto self flagellation.
Anyhoo, the bit of me that says I should change made me join a dating website a few months ago. I decided to be totally honest and put on my profile that I'm a bit crap, my car tried to kill me, I'm prone to grumpiness and I don't want anyone who can only write their profile in text talk (morons), is needy, or soppy in any way. I also said that until I was convinced any potential date wasn't a cannibal I would only be meeting them in a busy pub where they were free to feed me. I didn't think I'd get any responses but bloody hell, the pile of emails frightened the bejesus outta me. In horror, I promptly took my profile down. The thing is, they kept sending me matches to look at so after about a week I decided to just go through these and see, in a no pressure environment, who they reckoned my perfect mates were.
CHRIST ON A BIKE!
No word of a lie, the first bloke had a tracheostomy - a bloody plastic pipe sticking out of his throat! I got matched with a bloke who looked like he was 65, was propped up in a chair and had a sodding plastic tube sticking out of his neck! Yeah, after everything I'd said about looking for a meeting of minds, wanting a bloke with wit and charm, I get a geriatric who was hanging onto life by a plastic tube.
The next bugger looked like he was about 50. Not in age, in stones. He was HUGE yet seemed to be wearing a toupee. Looking closer it wasn't a toupee, I think his head had grown so big his hair had a shrunken look to it. It was also cut in a Friar Tuck style. Fuck me!
The third looked as if he'd posted a picture of himself from the 1970s.
The forth was the epitome of Paedophile Chic.
The fifth had never had a job, had loads of kids and was looking for a 'special lady for fun and frolics'. Piss off mate.
....I went through the list with growing dismay. Bloody hell, who am I kidding any way? What makes me think I've even GOT anything to offer anyone who was 'hanging the right way' in the first place. Perhaps this was Fate telling me to stop thinking I could do any better than a bloke in an ill fitting suit with giant black framed glasses and a penchant for short women who could pass as being 12. Gawd only knows what comments my photo and grumpy profile were getting. I think most of it was made up with what I don't want and some vague nod towards my comedy.
Hell, I dipped my toe in the pool of real life and decided I preferred hermitude. Hermitude, sweet hermitude, you don't judge me for wearing dinner stained pyjamas.....
Oh yeah, just a quickie. Whilst typing this up I was summonsed upstairs by the Tidiness Nazi. I could hear from the tone of her voice I was in trouble so I duly trouped up the stairs, my frightened face appearing slowly above the banister. She was in the bathroom, her face set.
"Wha........?"
She didn't speak, she just silently pointed towards the shower. I slowly entered the room and looked at the giant turd glistening in the cubicle.
"I'm not picking it up!" she huffed before leaving the room.
Honestly, I didn't do it. We have a perfectly acceptable toilet in the same room!
I doubt having a bloke would work for me much any how.
As I've said in my act (accidentally, the first time, after getting carried away and asking the audience if anyone was up for a shag, and then becoming scared by the overwhelming positive response), I'm probably all healed up now and wouldn't be good for anything. I was discussing this with people at work today and revealed that, over the years, I have been able to collect a whole heap of hang ups and now, the only bloke I think I could relax with would have to be that kid who plays a mean pin ball (you know him, the deaf, dumb and blind one).
Of course, the sensible part of me says that I can't go on like this and that I need to have word with myself. I should slap myself until I beg myself for mercy but then I wouldn't GIVE myself mercy, I'd just keep on slapping until I cried, tears of pain mingling with confusion as to why I wasn't stopping with the auto self flagellation.
Anyhoo, the bit of me that says I should change made me join a dating website a few months ago. I decided to be totally honest and put on my profile that I'm a bit crap, my car tried to kill me, I'm prone to grumpiness and I don't want anyone who can only write their profile in text talk (morons), is needy, or soppy in any way. I also said that until I was convinced any potential date wasn't a cannibal I would only be meeting them in a busy pub where they were free to feed me. I didn't think I'd get any responses but bloody hell, the pile of emails frightened the bejesus outta me. In horror, I promptly took my profile down. The thing is, they kept sending me matches to look at so after about a week I decided to just go through these and see, in a no pressure environment, who they reckoned my perfect mates were.
CHRIST ON A BIKE!
No word of a lie, the first bloke had a tracheostomy - a bloody plastic pipe sticking out of his throat! I got matched with a bloke who looked like he was 65, was propped up in a chair and had a sodding plastic tube sticking out of his neck! Yeah, after everything I'd said about looking for a meeting of minds, wanting a bloke with wit and charm, I get a geriatric who was hanging onto life by a plastic tube.
The next bugger looked like he was about 50. Not in age, in stones. He was HUGE yet seemed to be wearing a toupee. Looking closer it wasn't a toupee, I think his head had grown so big his hair had a shrunken look to it. It was also cut in a Friar Tuck style. Fuck me!
The third looked as if he'd posted a picture of himself from the 1970s.
The forth was the epitome of Paedophile Chic.
The fifth had never had a job, had loads of kids and was looking for a 'special lady for fun and frolics'. Piss off mate.
....I went through the list with growing dismay. Bloody hell, who am I kidding any way? What makes me think I've even GOT anything to offer anyone who was 'hanging the right way' in the first place. Perhaps this was Fate telling me to stop thinking I could do any better than a bloke in an ill fitting suit with giant black framed glasses and a penchant for short women who could pass as being 12. Gawd only knows what comments my photo and grumpy profile were getting. I think most of it was made up with what I don't want and some vague nod towards my comedy.
Hell, I dipped my toe in the pool of real life and decided I preferred hermitude. Hermitude, sweet hermitude, you don't judge me for wearing dinner stained pyjamas.....
Oh yeah, just a quickie. Whilst typing this up I was summonsed upstairs by the Tidiness Nazi. I could hear from the tone of her voice I was in trouble so I duly trouped up the stairs, my frightened face appearing slowly above the banister. She was in the bathroom, her face set.
"Wha........?"
She didn't speak, she just silently pointed towards the shower. I slowly entered the room and looked at the giant turd glistening in the cubicle.
"I'm not picking it up!" she huffed before leaving the room.
Honestly, I didn't do it. We have a perfectly acceptable toilet in the same room!
Wednesday 1 December 2010
Eyebrow
It wasn't a proud moment.
...sitting outside the gym quietly weeping at the prospect but unable to turn around and drive away. The thought though, it wasn't that bad, I mean, I could picture myself in there and I wasn't averse to that thought. It was my legs really, they wouldn't allow me out of the car and then my tantrumy part decided to get involved by doing the dry crying out loud thing which preempts the actual crying. I decided to phone the Tidiness Nazi to tell her what was going on. She laughed (which wasn't very helpful) and told me to toss a coin. I couldn't be arsed to do that so she offered to toss a coin for me and I had to duly listen to said coin bouncing across the floor. Heads for home and slovenliness. Tails for gym, good health, a firm body and possible sex again one day.
"It's HEADS!"
"WA-HOOOOOOOOOOO!"
I drove home wracked with guilt but went straight upstairs and put my pajamas on. Well, it appears that's ME done for the day. Sloth always wins. I am comfortable with Sloth. Sloth rules.
Leading up to this moment I have had to spend the day with the knowledge that I woke up with half an eyebrow mysteriously missing! I didn't even know until I sat in front of my mirror ready to put my make up for work this morning. I couldn't believe it - it looked bloody ridiculous. Can you have alopecia of just the eyebrows? Or eyebrow. Or eyeb (that's half an eyebrow)?
(Sigh) I just hope it isn't cancer of the whole eyebrow area or something. I do have to admit that when I'm bored or stressed I do mess with my eyebrows by rolling them about and generally interfering with the things. I'm not the kind of person who draws in eyebrows 'cause they just look like stupid drawn on eyebrows - they fool NO one! My cousin (and sister from another mother) advised me to just go ahead and draw it back in but not to use indelible marker like she once did (or was that nail varnish on her lips?)
All I had available was a green highlighter pen...
If you read my last entry you will know that I have an unhelpful and ridiculous inner dialogue which rarely shuts up going on through my head most of the time. During quiet moments I can't help but engage with it and today it was eyebrow obsessed. I was imagining just shaving off my entire eyebrows and drawing them on in a quizzical shape which would then render me constantly, well, 'quizzical'. I was then lost in thought thinking about drawing a pair of straight thick eyebrows (or a massively thick uni-brow) so I could look a bit bizarre and mean.
Or a pair of pointy black eyebrows. I actually like that design and am giggling at the thought as I type this. How brilliant would it be to walk into a room, have a conversation with someone, excuse yourself and then return with differently drawn on eyebrows which would reflect the nature of the discussion. OR RIGHT, MAGNET IMPLANTS AND FULLY POSEABLE THICK BLACK LINE EYEBROWS WHICH CAN BE CHANGED/MANIPULATED AT WILL!
Actually, that's what happens with normal eyebrows isn't it? I really need to stop listening to my stupid inner dialogue. Paul Carrick from IT will take the piss out of me at work tomorrow again now won't he? Damn!
...sitting outside the gym quietly weeping at the prospect but unable to turn around and drive away. The thought though, it wasn't that bad, I mean, I could picture myself in there and I wasn't averse to that thought. It was my legs really, they wouldn't allow me out of the car and then my tantrumy part decided to get involved by doing the dry crying out loud thing which preempts the actual crying. I decided to phone the Tidiness Nazi to tell her what was going on. She laughed (which wasn't very helpful) and told me to toss a coin. I couldn't be arsed to do that so she offered to toss a coin for me and I had to duly listen to said coin bouncing across the floor. Heads for home and slovenliness. Tails for gym, good health, a firm body and possible sex again one day.
"It's HEADS!"
"WA-HOOOOOOOOOOO!"
I drove home wracked with guilt but went straight upstairs and put my pajamas on. Well, it appears that's ME done for the day. Sloth always wins. I am comfortable with Sloth. Sloth rules.
Leading up to this moment I have had to spend the day with the knowledge that I woke up with half an eyebrow mysteriously missing! I didn't even know until I sat in front of my mirror ready to put my make up for work this morning. I couldn't believe it - it looked bloody ridiculous. Can you have alopecia of just the eyebrows? Or eyebrow. Or eyeb (that's half an eyebrow)?
(Sigh) I just hope it isn't cancer of the whole eyebrow area or something. I do have to admit that when I'm bored or stressed I do mess with my eyebrows by rolling them about and generally interfering with the things. I'm not the kind of person who draws in eyebrows 'cause they just look like stupid drawn on eyebrows - they fool NO one! My cousin (and sister from another mother) advised me to just go ahead and draw it back in but not to use indelible marker like she once did (or was that nail varnish on her lips?)
All I had available was a green highlighter pen...
If you read my last entry you will know that I have an unhelpful and ridiculous inner dialogue which rarely shuts up going on through my head most of the time. During quiet moments I can't help but engage with it and today it was eyebrow obsessed. I was imagining just shaving off my entire eyebrows and drawing them on in a quizzical shape which would then render me constantly, well, 'quizzical'. I was then lost in thought thinking about drawing a pair of straight thick eyebrows (or a massively thick uni-brow) so I could look a bit bizarre and mean.
Or a pair of pointy black eyebrows. I actually like that design and am giggling at the thought as I type this. How brilliant would it be to walk into a room, have a conversation with someone, excuse yourself and then return with differently drawn on eyebrows which would reflect the nature of the discussion. OR RIGHT, MAGNET IMPLANTS AND FULLY POSEABLE THICK BLACK LINE EYEBROWS WHICH CAN BE CHANGED/MANIPULATED AT WILL!
Actually, that's what happens with normal eyebrows isn't it? I really need to stop listening to my stupid inner dialogue. Paul Carrick from IT will take the piss out of me at work tomorrow again now won't he? Damn!
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