19 August, 2011

still here and as happy as ever

1. if there's one thing i hate* it's patients who grunt. honey, i am fairly certain i am not giving you oral pleasure. yes, it's oral, but no, it's not pleasure (although i do like me a good teeth cleaning), so please quit it with the grunting and the little tiny moans. it is disturbing. it is gross. it makes me feel even more unclean than all the blood i carry home on my skin. so QUIT IT!

2. today was a work day, followed by laundry, followed by a walk to the fringe whereupon i was assaulted by such an overwhelming feeling of ennui that i called everyone i knew. ok, i only called two people, but it felt like i was sitting by my phone for hours, grounded by my evil parents, forbidden from doing anything fun ever again ever. and nobody was home. i left messages and went for a vietnamese sub, because where else can you get such a delicious conglomeration of flavours for only four dollars? sadly, they were out of pearls for bubble tea, but such was the sadness of my afternoon that i was not at all surprised and put it down on the already teetering pile of my white privileged middle class tragedies.

3. suddenly! out of the woodwork! people! phone calls! chit chats! films with catherine deneuve with seriously weird disjointed song and dance numbers! (gerard depardieu! not peeing but dancing!)

4. then an i-pod enhanced walk home, because again nobody answered their phone thus saving me from what would surely have been far too many beer garden beverages, then some home-made pickle sandwiches (it's a polish thing, and when the pickles are home made, as mine are, then it's a thing of much culinary beauty) and a new william gibson novel in which i wish i was every single character. are there people that cool? why can't i meet them (no offence, pals, you're all pretty damn special and all, but come on! william gibson's peeps are the bee's knees!)? and where does a gal go for an anime haircut? these are things i need to know.

5. now i'm waiting for mr. monkey who is either at his parents' place turning pieces of metal into magical bits of the recumbent tricycle he's building, or screwing his mistress. at this point, the wine having nicely massaged my brain cortex into mellow insensibility, it matters not one whit.

6. still, i have wasted the last 7 years of my life and i deserve to be taken out back and whacked repeatedly on the noggin with something that'll wake me the hell up.

6a. these last few months i have been having a mid-life crisis, the main theme of which is: oh, for my lost youth, which was filled with so many possibilities. of course, and this is immediately obvious to anyone with even several functioning brain cells, i still have a hell of a lot of time left to me (if you are clairvoyant and know otherwise, keep it to yourself) (or maybe not, maybe i need the kick in the pants which an impending death my provide) (unless it's really soon, in which case i'd rather spend my remaining days (hours?minutes?) in blissful ignorance) and i can still do stuff. so do stuff already. DO IT! (you know it's bad when you bore even yourself with this unending whine of "what shall i be when i grow up?).

7. and so we come to an end of another wine-fuelled post. if you've missed me, i know what you'll say: hey! woman! drink more! write more! but you see, i am drinking more but this usually results in early sleep, inappropriate fanfic fantasies involving handsome men in tight pants on horses, and a headache the next day. creativity? not so much.

*yes, yes, YES. i know there are many things i hate. this is one of them, and, when it happens, it overshadows all the other things i hate. but when i'm complaining about this, i haven't forgotten world hunger or hitler, ok? ok.


Lucy said...

That Depardieu is a disgrace and no true Frenchman. If he had of been he certainly wouldn't have peed in a bottle but up against the wall and he would have done it with a bunch of other blokes - 'un bon francais ne pisse jamais seul', as they say.

I hope I have never inadvertently grunted at the dentist or hygienist, I would not like to be taken for some kind of perv...

I shall get Tom to look up the honeyed pickle recipe and relay it to you. They are apparently described as 'soused' which is supposed to sound a bit posher.

Send me an e-mail if you like and we'll e-mail it back to you, at lucy-dot-kmptn-at-gmail-dot-com.

Joan said...

Are you sure the grunts and moans aren't from the pain of getting your gums ripped with pointy objects?

Geneviève said...

Crap, I grunted in the chair just the other day as they were replacing childhood fillings. Sadly, I have to go back because one of them chipped on the first day.

I'm still deciding if I like your drunken posts or sober posts better. To be honest, I'm not sure if I could distinguish between them unless you told me. Not sure what that means. Either way, keep it coming.

Re: the mid-life crisis, I'll have to knock you in the head if you say or imply that you're too old to look at a fork in the road and surprise us (and yourself) with the path you choose. The eulogies at Jack's funeral sure made me think about the importance of not waiting for life to happen.

On that happy note, I hope you're enjoying the beautiful late summer. xo