Sun Of A Gun – Oh Land
Tough old week. Got chased by an angry snarling Alsatian. Not sure. But. Might be related to the previous blog? Speaking of which. Quiet on the blogaruu. My bad. Very busy doing highly important things. Such as… Walking into people. Rushing for the bathroom. Power striding. Bladder bursting. In synch. Hand out. Turned the door handle. Opened the bathroom door. Foot forward. Weight forward. Unfortunately. Guy exiting at the exact same time. Door open. Foot back. Weight back. Little chap. Walked into him. Onto him. Fell. And somehow ended up pinning him down to the bathroom floor. Half holding. Half hugging. Some little chap in a cap. Trying to break his fall. More importantly, break mine. All happened quite quickly. All ended quite awkwardly. Another guy came out of a cubicle. And looked down. At us. Tut. Tough week. As I said. Busy. Realising highly important things. Such as…
This Place Is Women!!!
Women are nuts. Different brains to men. Men are also morons. Different lines of thought than women. We see straight lines. They see circles. No wonder we baffle each other so much. Dumbfounded by one another’s actions. For example: Did you know that when a girl asks you if ye can go to Victoria’s Secret sometime next week, it means she wants to go together so you can buy her underwear? I. Did. Not. Presumed it was just the same as when your buddy tells you he must swing by some shop to pick something up. Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Swing on!
So we swing by Victoria’s Secret. Some mighty clobber is tried on, in fairness. What do I think? Mighty. Good choice. Now. Giddy up! Get it and go! OK. Where’s the checkout till… Over there. Which is when the merchandise is handed to me. What’s this? Hold it? No. Aren’t you going to get it for me? Pardon? Which? What are you on about? You asked me if I wanted to go to Victoria’s Secret? Yeah. You said you needed to go? No. I asked if we could go. I wanted to show you this. See if you liked it. OK? So… You wanted to buy this for me… ?
Applying The Carrie Bradshaw Theorem...
Ehh. Where’s this logic coming from? Cue two confused people standing in the middle of a shop. Stand-off of disbelief. (Have you ever looked at someone in confused puzzlement while they look back at you with the exact same look? Funny enough.) Finally asked by a shop assistant if we’re alright. Yes. I’m fine. You? Nay. Tad embarrassed. Took the underwear. Went to buy it. While I went outside. Waited. Tried to make heads or tails of what was going on. Informed then that if a guy asks a girl to go to VS, it’s because he wants to buy her something from there. I did not know. Because you’re a moron. That makes no sense? Alright so, could we swing by the Porsche store on the way home? Maybe you could buy me a 911? Shh. It’s OK. I forgive you. You’re just a moron. What the what? You forgive me? How now does that work exactly?! To which I heard… Moron. Making me realise/remember: Women. Are. Beyond. Nuts. Not crazy. Not mental. Just nuts. Nuts is their starting point. Carrie Bradshaw. That’s what they call normal-ish. We call it nuts.
All of that exchange was in good humour. Obviously. Ended with us both convinced we’re right. Guys I mentioned it too agreed with me. Girls, with her. Proving my point. Women are from nuts. Men are from morons. Shall be the title of my highly anticipated romance novel. Just how we are. Probably why somethings can never be fully explained or understood. Dumbfounding each other is just par for the course. Dumb on!
Anyways, speaking of highly anticipated books, most of this week has been spent working on book two! Meaning my procrastination levels have been ridiculously high. If you need a favour, now is a great time to ask me. My ability to colour coordinatine pens and index cards is at an all time high! My apartment has never been so clean either. Despite my attempts to do anything but write, she is tipping along nicely. First draft shall be wrapped up soon. Hopefully. Don’t want to rush such a glorious demon! Although, I do have a few favour to ask you, the mighty reader. Glorious reader, to be true. Have I told you how much of a dancer you are lately? You are. Dance on! So. My favour… If you read Randumb. Or are a regular blog reader. What would you like to see more of or less of in book two? Don’t be shy. No need to be a troll either. Suggestions so far of what people want less or more of include:
- Full stops
- Adventures of cavorting
- Comparisons between Cork and LA
- Random, dumb stories
- Word appendix (What does Duu actually mean?!)
Can’t think of any more of the top of my head. If you have any, feel free to comment on below! Or, if you would prefer to email me your suggestions, email on. Thank you in advance. You mighty, mighty dancer!
With You feat. Alexis Taylor – Carte Blanche
The further emergence of a side-kick… A Bert to your Ernie, Luigi to your Mario, A Robin to your Batman! – an Irish Batman in LA!! hahahaa.
Haha. Hmmm. Interesting. Suge-Man perhaps?
the only thing about that panty “misunderstanding” confusing to your clever ladyfriend? why it didn’t work on you.
i’d never make it in LA.
Ha, good to know! Unwittingly foiling clever plans. Quite the moron!
really would be a great title for the romance nov 😉
i like the idea of having a word index. for humor’s sake, if anything.
Index it is! Mucho gracias. (And a mighty, titilating title!)