With immaculate timing, the Love Interest, who I haven't heard from for a month, calls just as I'm getting ready to go out and meet a hot date. Despite everything, it puts a dampener on proceedings: you see, I still have Feelings. Groan.
So the hot date is not so hot, but after all I do get to see and play with the Love Interest the very next day, and very pleasant it is too.
I have to wonder whether my phone is bugged. The timing was just bizarre.
The other flaccid internet interests I have recede rapidly into the background. My loss, I dare say.
I also have to wonder whether the Love Interest simply got in touch as they were feeling a bit suddenly horny. Who knows, I shan't waste brain activity pondering on the subject. It was fun and I'm sure it will happen again.
This week is better than last. I haven't even been rude to my fellow motorists. Tomorrow will be the test for that. I live in an area with a rich motoring history. Landmarks to speed are all about: Maclaren, Aston Martin, Caterham, yet here there are the slowest most fucking frustrating roads in the whole of the UK.
Tonight I got a follow-up text message from the Hot Date (who I've known for several years). In essence it said "Shame we no longer click. Have a happy life". Which meant, shame you didn't shag me, I'll be in touch next time I'm in the bath naked. My stomach lurched at the sensation of being chucked, and about 2 minutes later, I'd forgotten, happily impervious as quite honestly I didn't really care. They were so frankly desperate they were a turn off anyhow.
I have things in the pipeline: just thought I would mention. This time next week I will know how things have panned out.
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
Tuesday, 11 March 2008
Road Rage
This evening I was in a filthy mood. I would normally put on a happy face for professional reasons, which would soon become a genuinely happy face through love of my work. But christ, tonite it was forced, and I felt I cast a gloom over my class, as they seemed stressed / unco-ordinated / uptight too. We all seemed to be having a bad day. I tried to perk up.
I don't even know why I was in a foul mood. Sure I was late, as I frequently am, due to my crap time-keeping / willingness to be distracted / lack of backbone / whatever.
As I pulled over to park, someone in a car drove at me somewhatly aggressively despite my indicating my intention to pull over and park. I was there first. They pissed me off no end, so I stood on my horn. They 'beeped' back. I stood on my horn full time, and would have swivelled round and chased them down the road, were I not late, and the road full of of traffic. I would have driven them over into the roadside and challenged them to discuss matters further, OUT of the confines of their safe little shitty boxy car. Me being me, I could have mashed their silly little head into their their car and taught them a lesson in being nice and polite. I pack muscle outside of my car as well as when I'm sitting in it.
But I was late, and so my aggression / misanthropia carried over into class. It did dissipate eventually. I am a good teacher, and try to not take the piss.
I don't even know why I was in a foul mood. Sure I was late, as I frequently am, due to my crap time-keeping / willingness to be distracted / lack of backbone / whatever.
As I pulled over to park, someone in a car drove at me somewhatly aggressively despite my indicating my intention to pull over and park. I was there first. They pissed me off no end, so I stood on my horn. They 'beeped' back. I stood on my horn full time, and would have swivelled round and chased them down the road, were I not late, and the road full of of traffic. I would have driven them over into the roadside and challenged them to discuss matters further, OUT of the confines of their safe little shitty boxy car. Me being me, I could have mashed their silly little head into their their car and taught them a lesson in being nice and polite. I pack muscle outside of my car as well as when I'm sitting in it.
But I was late, and so my aggression / misanthropia carried over into class. It did dissipate eventually. I am a good teacher, and try to not take the piss.
Monday, 10 March 2008
The Dating Game
I joined up with an Internet dating site. Mostly because I am single and therefore curious, and not because I am specifically looking for dates. (Especially from an Internet Site).
Things which strike me thus far are:
People – of both sexes – who are into extreme / excessive amounts of outdoor sports activities, remain single. The amount of profiles on there urgently declaring a love of snow-boarding / water ski-ing / mountain climbing suggests an overwhelming tendency of those types towards singledom. Heck I can see why. What a fucking effort.
Ditto people whose profile photos feature themselves:
a) Up a mountain (in goggles and copious outdoorwear, therefore conveniently covering a multitude of physical sins, in my opinion).
b) On a sailing boat. What’s the point? Man has invented motors so one can enjoy oneself. Such pre-industrial age effort is surely obsolete. Let go of the sail and join me below deck – lighten up already!
c) On a mountain bike. In Devon (ENGLAND). In December. Pedalling up a 60% muddy incline in lycra shorts but secretly visualising the pub at the end of the journey which will offer (i) relief from physical toil; (ii) a toilet / hygiene opportunity; (iii) a drink; (iv) comfort food; (v) a mobile phone signal if you’re lucky; (vi) thus the opportunity to ring for a taxi to get back to one’s tent. Really. There is no need.
P.S. – There’s no way on Earth you will get me to share your motherfucking sweaty cold tent with you, I’ll be in the nearest 5 Star Guest House. This being modern urbane England, there will be one not too far away. Thank you very much.
I therefore draw the conclusion that people who declare an interest in extreme sports believe that this is the fastest and most efficacious way to a shag / lifetime commitment / whatever they are seeking.
I plan to up-end this futile belief by positing a life of decadence, hedonism and apathy. I will keep you posted on the results. If I can be arsed.
Things which strike me thus far are:
People – of both sexes – who are into extreme / excessive amounts of outdoor sports activities, remain single. The amount of profiles on there urgently declaring a love of snow-boarding / water ski-ing / mountain climbing suggests an overwhelming tendency of those types towards singledom. Heck I can see why. What a fucking effort.
Ditto people whose profile photos feature themselves:
a) Up a mountain (in goggles and copious outdoorwear, therefore conveniently covering a multitude of physical sins, in my opinion).
b) On a sailing boat. What’s the point? Man has invented motors so one can enjoy oneself. Such pre-industrial age effort is surely obsolete. Let go of the sail and join me below deck – lighten up already!
c) On a mountain bike. In Devon (ENGLAND). In December. Pedalling up a 60% muddy incline in lycra shorts but secretly visualising the pub at the end of the journey which will offer (i) relief from physical toil; (ii) a toilet / hygiene opportunity; (iii) a drink; (iv) comfort food; (v) a mobile phone signal if you’re lucky; (vi) thus the opportunity to ring for a taxi to get back to one’s tent. Really. There is no need.
P.S. – There’s no way on Earth you will get me to share your motherfucking sweaty cold tent with you, I’ll be in the nearest 5 Star Guest House. This being modern urbane England, there will be one not too far away. Thank you very much.
I therefore draw the conclusion that people who declare an interest in extreme sports believe that this is the fastest and most efficacious way to a shag / lifetime commitment / whatever they are seeking.
I plan to up-end this futile belief by positing a life of decadence, hedonism and apathy. I will keep you posted on the results. If I can be arsed.
Sunday, 9 March 2008
I Could Live Here
... and you? Well, the wallpaper's a bit gay, I guess*. Contemporary Baroque has SO had its day, already.
* No, I'm not. Why d'ya ask? Heck I like interior (and all kinds of) design. Get over it.
Starting from Zero
A couple of things.
1. I'd like whoever randomly chanced upon this page to know that I have resisted this long and hard*. Last time I wrote stuff, I ended up in hospital nearly flatlining. Not a direct consequence of Blogging, you understand ... more a kind of extreme symptom of the kind of mindset required to write stuff. Nuff said.
2. The Blog name. Years ago*, when I was in my foolish 20's, I smoked grass at intervals. Mainly in order to free up my creative mind to produce the novel / play / radioplay that I aspired to at that time. I would smoke and jot down the ramblings of my apparently free and illuminated mind. One of things I remember writing was, "Weed enables you to see around corners".
3. In that spirit, I will only re-visit and maintain this Blog, on occasions. I don't smoke weed or do any kind of drugs today: it screwed royally with my brain and my mental outlook. One needs to be careful. My vices these days lay in other more readily available and indeed socially acceptable directions. I reserve the right to edit afterwards.
4. You should know that my word verification for the creation of this Blog was ARZSWP. Which, to my puerile mind, clearly reads "arsewipe". Thus, I set the tone for this Blog. I thank you.
* Lest I give the impression I am some superannuated old fartwhacker, I would point out that I am younger than 40, eligible and attractive. Form an orderly queue.
1. I'd like whoever randomly chanced upon this page to know that I have resisted this long and hard*. Last time I wrote stuff, I ended up in hospital nearly flatlining. Not a direct consequence of Blogging, you understand ... more a kind of extreme symptom of the kind of mindset required to write stuff. Nuff said.
2. The Blog name. Years ago*, when I was in my foolish 20's, I smoked grass at intervals. Mainly in order to free up my creative mind to produce the novel / play / radioplay that I aspired to at that time. I would smoke and jot down the ramblings of my apparently free and illuminated mind. One of things I remember writing was, "Weed enables you to see around corners".
3. In that spirit, I will only re-visit and maintain this Blog, on occasions. I don't smoke weed or do any kind of drugs today: it screwed royally with my brain and my mental outlook. One needs to be careful. My vices these days lay in other more readily available and indeed socially acceptable directions. I reserve the right to edit afterwards.
4. You should know that my word verification for the creation of this Blog was ARZSWP. Which, to my puerile mind, clearly reads "arsewipe". Thus, I set the tone for this Blog. I thank you.
* Lest I give the impression I am some superannuated old fartwhacker, I would point out that I am younger than 40, eligible and attractive. Form an orderly queue.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)