Tuesday, February 21, 2012

I'm slightly drunk and someone I slightly fancy just tweeted it and I laughed because this is why I never really saw the point:

Speaking of slightly fancying* what's it mean if you find your toes in contact with someone else's perineum? Other than being a bit drunk, not able to judge distances and showing affection in the manner of a toddler, thus hitting whatever you like.

Actually I have previous on this. Didn't mean to make contact then. Being unable to suppress my laughter probably didn't help while he was doubled over (and oddly he didn't take up my truth-in-jest offer to kiss it better). Ah, the joys of teenage infatuation (just ignore the whole third year at uni thing).

On other minor fancies, well, yeah, not so much. Great Green Goggles couldn't remember my name and just seems a bit, er, fey generally, whereas his nearest competition there is tall, dark, handsome and dull. Clearly need to get out more (even a bus offers more potential, and no, that wasn't a direct reference to the theatrical trio who got on by UCkLe, sat discussing future shows and internal squabbles, before getting off by the residences, much). Clearly need to work on finding the other drifter off to see the world (yes, we're doing that song, and yes I was switching between melody and base parts while singing it softly down the far end of the platform at Notacity, voice melding with the practising bells, slinky rail whickers, and announcements bouncing in rounds. Well, it was that or Jägermann. Ok, so it was that and Jägermann, and Lullaby of Birdworld.

And dear person who just sent a text asking if I have plans tonight please reply to my reply which confirmed that I don't but asked who they were, because the list of people who could have sent me that wording is fairly long (informal but long-form and correctly spelt), and I probably would like to see you but don't know which you that is.

And in other news in the world of Bob the Builder when one hears thunder one counts elephants until the lightning arrives and then you can work out how far away it is by the number of elephants. At which point the television stopped being an annoying JML-style background and became the centre of the known universe. *Sound of jaw hitting the floor*

Oh and also don't gain free (I thought it was free, LD seemed to think there was someone further round collecting money, but no one shouted at me) lanterns when they de-New Year Sinaton. Because anything you put in that bag weeks afterwards is going to come out, as if by magic, all sparkly. Including bread.

How fabulous is my life?


* Sober amendment, lest he should read this: only slightly, and when drunk, but you do have nice eyes, along with nice triangles, and nice nice, and I'm forever muddling admiration and affection. I do expect to be at your wedding, but don't quite envisage myself standing at the front there.

Oh, and please don't leave the radio on Radio 2, no matter how awesomely bad the organ programme is (this week I Got Rhythm; clearly the producers don't like Gershwin). There are two words behind this: Jeremy Vine.

*Sight of jaw hitting floor*
The length of the programme suggests some kind of internal realisation that The Organist Entertains is bad. I think all they need is some inverted commas around the final word of the show's title.

This quest for the other drifter seems to be gathering urgency, if I may say. I'm going to take that as a good sign. There's such a lot of world to see, after all.

Just accidentally clicked on your link to my old blog. There are polar bears in the woods. Seriously weird.
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