The Enemy

Hello!

Yes, I know it's only been three days since last I posted a lovely chunk of incoherent rambling, but I got all out of sync with my organisation last week and if I don't start obeying the timetable of my own creation, it will surely come to life and kill me. So for the sake of my mortal soul, just deal with it, okay? Anyway, I come bearing solid life advice; you would do well to heed it.

The other week, I wanted to brush my teeth before I went out, but also had to watch the end of an episode of Grey's Anatomy. I thought, what the hell, I'll just start brushing my teeth here in my room; the show will be finished before I am and I can hock my loogie in the sink.

I've always been the kinda gal who likes to wet my toothbrush both before AND after the application of the toothpaste, but that day I had to dry brush. And you know what? It didn't make a difference.

But I realised after a couple of days that it DOES make a difference. Do you know how many antelopes could bathe in those short bursts of water you use every time you wet your brush? Approximately 0.62. Do you know how many antelope die of not bathing each day? Approximately all of them.

So the next time you think about wetting your toothbrush before and after you apply the old fashioned paste we call 'tooth', think about this:

As you can see, this antelope is filthy and also dead. And you're to blame.

THE END.

The Forgotten Title

So, I didn't get chance to write a blog on Sunday during the 2 hours I had scheduled, because I was really busy helping orphans and organising my filopastryfax* - efficient AND delicient. If anyone wants to buy one from me, they're retailing at around seventy ones pound and ninety 6 pee. Christmas is a busy time though, so get in quick!

I don't really have an awful lot to say this week. I had a filling done in April and it cracked this week while I was snacking on a filopastryfax, so now I have to trail all the way home to have it replaced NOT free of charge probably, which is most indecent. Especially since I read an article about youth unemployment this morning and the figure is quite horrifying. My face looked something like this:

**

But then I realised two things:
1) By the time I finish this degree, I'll be 25 and no longer classed as "youth", which means I'll almost definitely get a job, because all grown ups have jobs like astronaut and minicab driver and prostitute. If not, I have the option of becoming an alcoholic. Since this torturous "illness" is a classed as a "disability", it means I can live off the state for the rest of my life, get money and healthcare for nothing and in turn bleed the country dry, furthering youth unemployment in this precious time of recession.
2) I recently invented the famed filopastryfax and if that doesn't make me a million within the next year, I've no idea what will!

Yeah, so when I said I didn't have an awful lot to say, for once I wasn't lying. Tune in next week for details of my border collieflower!

OVER AND OUT!


*Filopastryfax is a figment of my imagination. If you are interested in purchasing a filopastryfax, send me your monies and I will burrow into your mind to plant the figment tree there also. In 6-8 weeks the figment tree will have sprouted many wonderful imaginings and you will have access to your filopastryfax.

**I have never read "Rage Comics" or any of its affiliates.

A Plane Flies Low

Now then, now then. << A little tribute to Jimmy Saville there, God rest his soul.

 My my, hasn't a lot happened since I last wrote a blog?! The answer is yes, a lot HAS happened since I last wrote a blog and I'm going to talk about a few of these things.

 1) I've been thinking a lot lately about the way some people say, "Can I have a tad bit more?" and how much this syntactic indiscretion really pisses me off. Why don't people understand that a "tad" and a "bit" are the same thing? SYNONYMS YOU ARSEHOLES!! You only need to use one!

 2) My nails are getting quite long, could really do with cutting them. Will probably do that once I've finished writing this.

 3) Kim Kardashian got divorced after just 72 days of wedded bliss. Oh, what's that? You DIDN'T need or want to know that?? Well me neither, so maybe news websites could stop reporting this horseshit and concentrate on people who exist for reasons beyond promiscuity and excruciatingly idiotic life choices.

 4) Gaddafi died. Did you know that? Oh but you MUST have seen the pictures since they were forced down our throats like caster oil. If you don't understand this similie allow me to elaborate: caster oil is disgusting and completely unnecessary and can often result in fecal incontinence when ingested. I was comparing it to the butchered images of a human, albeit an undeniably evil human, that were printed in the news as though they were real Kodak moments. What IS the world coming to? An end, that's my guess.

 5) Halloween happened. I believe this took place all across the country, with Hartford, Hereford and Hampshire all included in the festivities, which is nice since they so often miss out on the hurricanes. (Oooo, does anyone get this reference??)

 6) We got new neighbours. They are like small piles of dirt that have somehow managed to grow legs and arms, though their features and brains remain indefinable. They appear to have three settings: coitus, angry and fucking annoying. Often they combine all three, resulting in a fun-filled evening for yours truly, laid in bed, longing for death to steal his merciful cape across my weeping form.

 7) I was shortlisted for the Bridport Prize again. I should probably be more happy about this, but right now, everything is one big long bad mood. So screw you Carol-Ann Duffy for not letting me win. (NB, Carol-Ann, if you're reading this, the hatred all just for dramatic effect and I respect your (misguided) decision.)

 Yeah, so Best Beloved has been away for over 6 weeks and I've been utterly miserable. Thankfully he's back on Tuesday so I'll no doubt have something far more cheerful to say next week. Oh yes! I intend to start blogging every week now, you lucky, lucky readers! I've even written it into the colour-coded timetable I made to try and control my schedule, without which I'd probably just sit watching Grey's Anatomy all day, eating chocolate puddings and tuna straight out of the tin. Here is the aforementioned, non-prize-winning poem for you all to enjoy and not give any prizes to:


  Something Unseen

My grandfather’s head,
rouged and fuzzy as a peach,
over by the window
looking out.

My storyteller wrapped in old blankets;
a line of porridge hardening on his front.
His hands are cupped claws, holding something;
some secret of the dead.

A man of the old armoured sea,
how does he feel now
on ground unmoving?
Still he sways,

lapping an imaginary shore
where his wife is standing,
bent double in a cotton frock
reaching for something unseen.



Peace out, Napoleon x