That title, coincidentally enough, is also my new hobby. Admittedly I've done that sly thing where people just hyperbolise their titles in order to draw in an audience, but I have been doing the following lately:
-Throw something small over Cid. He stops moving.
- Throw something bigger to entirely cover him.
- Continue to throw ever heavier textiles onto the growing pile of stuff.
- Lift up the pile where you approximate his head to be
- Look at two large, round innocent eyes regarding you in kittenish blend of confusion and apathy.
That would suffice as an explanation for the pile on my floor to the -
Cid just ran into the house from the garden 'screaming' as Claire put it, so I ran out across the mud in my bare feet, hissed loudly at the sinister darkness and proceeded to pick up a sizeable piece of tree and strike it reapeatedly on the big pile of logs on the patio at the end of the garden. I feel pretty manly now, and I suspect that whatever it was that scared Cid so much won't be coming back in a hurry.
anyways, that would suffice as an explanation for the (now kitten-less) heap on my floor consisting of a T-shirt, a school shirt, a dressing down, a blanket and a duvet.
I had a dissapointing sandwich yesterday. I love my mum, but I also love strong cheddar and apricot stilton. My loving mother, having had enough to make a sandwich out of each, discerned that the best course of action would be to mix the two cheeses evenly between each sandwich. I was quite dissapointed. Still, I ought to be careful what I say, or I might have to start making my own sandwiches like all those competent people. Then again that might not be a terrible thing. It would mean the end of butter and honey, or just cold butter in thick slabs dotted around the slice, sometime thicker than the actual filling.
I considered getting twitter this week. I actuall already had it, but only becuase somebody said I should get it, I made one post and realised it was crap. It's like a blog for people who can't think of more than one thing to write about at once. Essentially, it's because if everyone had a blog, nobody would read them.
Speaking of other people and their having blogs, Yasmin subscribed to my blog. As a tactician, I'm not really sure what to do about this. I've previously thought that subscribing to hers would be a sign of defeat, and whilst reading it, have never made my readership official. It's a bit like when Marlowe says witty things to people he doesn't like, and they both dance around the actual subject of the disscusion with clever euphemisms and quick retaliations. I'm reading some Marlowe. He's awesome.
I think I will subscribe to DoaTN (sounds like doting, a word I love despite not being 100% on what it means. It just reminds me of Shakespeare and being a don for some reason.) Anyways, she's stopped facebooking her posts over lent, so she could use the views. (That's not meant to be backhanded at all)
In closing, I was on the bus today, and I smelt a certain aroma. Let's just say it was a tad 'herbal'. I realised the source of said smell was quite close to me and began, without really realising, to browse the bus for any likely perpetrators. I noticed somebody who look pretty eligible - they were glassy eyed, slack jawed and looked a little gaumless. Then I realised that this was how they looked all the time and that I really had no idea. I thought that was funny.
Another funny story about drugs - my uncle David was in London with is daughter when a drug dealer started whispering drug names to him (apparently that's what they do). Being as innocent as he was, he had no idea what the man was doing and was like 'sorry, I can't here you.' Good times. My dad once thought that my friends had invited me to go to Camden because they were all going to buy drugs, on the grounds that there was nothing else to buy in Camden. I mean, who wouldn't bring me along on a buying drugs trip?
Kore wa nan desu ka?
Sore wa blog desu.
Watachi wa Dave desu, O yasumi na sai.
-Throw something small over Cid. He stops moving.
- Throw something bigger to entirely cover him.
- Continue to throw ever heavier textiles onto the growing pile of stuff.
- Lift up the pile where you approximate his head to be
- Look at two large, round innocent eyes regarding you in kittenish blend of confusion and apathy.
That would suffice as an explanation for the pile on my floor to the -
Cid just ran into the house from the garden 'screaming' as Claire put it, so I ran out across the mud in my bare feet, hissed loudly at the sinister darkness and proceeded to pick up a sizeable piece of tree and strike it reapeatedly on the big pile of logs on the patio at the end of the garden. I feel pretty manly now, and I suspect that whatever it was that scared Cid so much won't be coming back in a hurry.
anyways, that would suffice as an explanation for the (now kitten-less) heap on my floor consisting of a T-shirt, a school shirt, a dressing down, a blanket and a duvet.
I had a dissapointing sandwich yesterday. I love my mum, but I also love strong cheddar and apricot stilton. My loving mother, having had enough to make a sandwich out of each, discerned that the best course of action would be to mix the two cheeses evenly between each sandwich. I was quite dissapointed. Still, I ought to be careful what I say, or I might have to start making my own sandwiches like all those competent people. Then again that might not be a terrible thing. It would mean the end of butter and honey, or just cold butter in thick slabs dotted around the slice, sometime thicker than the actual filling.
I considered getting twitter this week. I actuall already had it, but only becuase somebody said I should get it, I made one post and realised it was crap. It's like a blog for people who can't think of more than one thing to write about at once. Essentially, it's because if everyone had a blog, nobody would read them.
Speaking of other people and their having blogs, Yasmin subscribed to my blog. As a tactician, I'm not really sure what to do about this. I've previously thought that subscribing to hers would be a sign of defeat, and whilst reading it, have never made my readership official. It's a bit like when Marlowe says witty things to people he doesn't like, and they both dance around the actual subject of the disscusion with clever euphemisms and quick retaliations. I'm reading some Marlowe. He's awesome.
I think I will subscribe to DoaTN (sounds like doting, a word I love despite not being 100% on what it means. It just reminds me of Shakespeare and being a don for some reason.) Anyways, she's stopped facebooking her posts over lent, so she could use the views. (That's not meant to be backhanded at all)
In closing, I was on the bus today, and I smelt a certain aroma. Let's just say it was a tad 'herbal'. I realised the source of said smell was quite close to me and began, without really realising, to browse the bus for any likely perpetrators. I noticed somebody who look pretty eligible - they were glassy eyed, slack jawed and looked a little gaumless. Then I realised that this was how they looked all the time and that I really had no idea. I thought that was funny.
Another funny story about drugs - my uncle David was in London with is daughter when a drug dealer started whispering drug names to him (apparently that's what they do). Being as innocent as he was, he had no idea what the man was doing and was like 'sorry, I can't here you.' Good times. My dad once thought that my friends had invited me to go to Camden because they were all going to buy drugs, on the grounds that there was nothing else to buy in Camden. I mean, who wouldn't bring me along on a buying drugs trip?
Kore wa nan desu ka?
Sore wa blog desu.
Watachi wa Dave desu, O yasumi na sai.
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