Monthly Archives: February 2010

Pea? Emm. Yes!

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Great news! I’ve found a new place to do it. In the bathroom. Mighty spot. Still a big fan of the shower. Big fan. Bed is a good place as well, of course. Just that I don’t last as long there. Fatigue is an issue. If I manage to get a quick burst, I do at least have a nice deep slumber afterwards. Pass out. Happy. Content. Anyways, for whatever reason this week, I’ve been doing it a lot more in my bathroom. Specifically, on the toilet itself. True, it can be a bit awkward. However, if you just leave the lid down, actually more comfortable than you think. Presuming you’ve never tried doing it there before yourself. Continue Reading »

Fine. I’ll Comb It.

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Who wants to hear a ridiculously pointless story?! Ah well, it’s not ridiculously pointless. Ah well, it actually is. Maybe not completely pointless. To one person. Probably just the one. Probably. Although if you are one of the many people who have ever felt the need to insist I should comb my hair, maybe you might find it of note. Probably. Not. Thing is. I just remembered. How big a combed head I used to be. Immaculate parting. Straight as an arrow. Splitting hairs. Like a landing strip. White line down the centre of my head. Nicely tanned during the summer. Brazilian. Or whichever one that is. Perfect divide. No stragglers. East. West. A combing king. King Combs! Bit of Brylcreem. Followed by a quick flick of a brush. Either side of the Berlin Wall. Little bit of a fringe. Check in the mirror. And. I. Was. Dancing! Continue Reading »

The Zebra Effect

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Have you ever wondered what happens if you cross an ape with a zebra? Obviously you have. Although I myself have not. However. Oddly. I got to find out. Kind of bizarre. Not bizarre in a zebrape, hybrid kind of way. Bizarre in a no-way-did-that-just-happen, kind of way. So bizarre I actually forgot it happened. Thank funk I get flashbacks. Or memory jogs. Or scribble down notes. Only reminded when I walked by the scene of the crime again yesterday. Scene of the crash, to be more exact. And to think. All started with a mysterious man named Neil. Kind of. Not at all. Continue Reading »

Enough Talk, More Music!!!

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Incredible news. Really amazing. Really relevant. Really unbelievable. Really insignificant. Really. However. Still. In fairness to her big day. Credit to le blogaruu. She’s being going aboot a year to the day. Isn’t that just amazingly incredibly insignificantly unbelievably irrelevantly pointless news to everyone! One year out of the writing closet. Coinciding with editing what I think is the final draft of my first book. Mr. Myles Stone. Take a bow. Who knows where you’ll be this time next year. For now. Just sit. And wait for your medal. Which I presume is being delivered as we speak. Hope it’s a nice shiny triangular copper one. Your favourite. On a less serious tone, I do have a big music blogaruu lined up. Just don’t have the time yet with the editing going on. Soon though. I swear. Anyways, enough talk, more music!!! Continue Reading »

Vaseline. Alley. Riding. Carrots.

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Not too sure what a typical Valentine’s Day consists of… Bed. Breakfast. Chocolates. Flowers. Wining. Dining. Whining. Drunk. Lingerie. Hip hip hooray? Not too sure. Mine was similar enough to that. Ish. Kind of. Not at all. More like a typical Sunday. Back in the pre-cave days. Hand bags. Man bags. Russian. Riding. Chinese. Haggling. Dancing. Carrots. Juice. Mexican. Flowers. Bouncing. Drag. Puff. Vaseline. And. An. Alley. Typical enough. Continue Reading »

Mumbling, Fumbling, Bumbling Mess

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Rambling on from the previous blogaruu. Have you ever thought you were going to blow your own mind? On Saturday, I think I tried my best. Not really sure why so. Now that I think about it, bit of a joke. Decision making seems to do it at the moment. Brain being torn one way or the other. Polar bears running free. Both choices are the right choice. Both are the wrong choice. Polar opposite reasoning. Unable then to make a choice. Day before the wedding. Slight running around like a headless chicken. Day after the wedding. Brood. Flock. Peep. Full on bucket of chicken. Pail full of hungover dumbness. Painful. Continue Reading »