Ooh, this is exciting, I made Post of the Week! (With a "judgely huddle" including Glitterforbrains, who is hilarious, by the way.) Gosh. I do like this. It's been a long time since I put much into this blog, so I don't really feel I deserve it, but I'm totally chuffed that some people felt I had something interesting to say. Thanks chaps.
2007 in first lines; or, the Mundane Meme.
January:
Anna Little Red Boat, investigative journalist extraordinaire, started quite the conversation while I was away.
February:
Alive, yes, Anything interesting to tell you, no.
March:
I have led such a protected, not to say wilfully deluded, life.
April:
Everybody knows Italy already — even if you've never been anywhere further than your neighbourhood pizzeria.
May:
But clearly a mismatch.
June:
The problem with lolcats is that, well, they're generally not so much lol.
July:
Two and a half weeks of visit later, matricide has been averted.
August:
Blah blahblah blahblah.
September:
Vivaldifan has just arrived from SA to start his new life here in Londonville.
October:
Holiday disasters (little ones):
Forgetting my work permit and changing my ticket.
November:
He did it again.
December:
Which of the following statements about my past week is/are untrue?
Conclusion:
Today I ate a cheese sandwich.
And should give you something at least as seasonal, and far more entertaining.
But clearly a mismatch. (Not to mention self-contradictory. Modest, shy, assertive and outgoing, all at the same time?) Put in your two cents please dears, and let's see what we end up with.
Interestingly, I took the test twice - the first time I changed my mind about a single answer, and there is no back button. The first daemon I got was a gibbon. Way less pretty, but the description seemed far more apt. Then I change one answer and I think two or three words of the five-word description changed. Huh.
So about this "not done complaining" business (below). I considered complaining in an email to a friend, but frankly none of my friends have done anything to deserve that. I considered waiting till Beloved came home and complaining to him, but that didn't seem like the loving thing to do.* I considered complaining some more over here, but I think it's about time to try raising the tone around here, before it hits scummy pond floor level.
So I did the only thing I could do.
I started a new blog.
I made it ugly so that no one will stick around to read it. It's like the anti-blog. It is not for reading, it is for dumping. And I would like you all to share in its whiny, pathetic, ranty joys. No! Not by reading, gawd, don't you listen? No, I want you to dump too. When the mood strikes. You can get signed up as a member of the miserable McWhineFace clan by leaving a comment, or emailing me. Act now to be prepared for any attack of sulks in future!
_____
* Well I mean I'm going to do that anyway, *obviously*, but it probably would be best if he didn't have the full force of my tantrumy sulks to deal with.
Pilfered (and slightly edited) from wytchfynder.
1. Ever punch someone in the face? Why?
No, only a feisty slap. Because he was ungentlemanly. He didn't seem bothered, so I slapped him again, harder. His girlfriend was not amused... but he made me an actual apology, with flowers, shortly thereafter. I was quite proud of this, at the time.
2. Where in your life are you? Just beginning, midway, none of the above?
I suspect I'll always feel I'm just beginning. But at the same time, I've already gotten further than I ever expected.
3. Are you single or taken? If taken, where?
Taken. Soon to be taken on honeymoon to Eeeetaleeee! (What? It's only five years late...)
4. Do you double-dip snacks/finger food?
*blush* Only among good friends. If they do it first. Or aren't looking.
5. Would you have any real-life ambition if you had perfect, lucid, coherently picaresque dreams every night?
*light dawns*
I do have astonishingly entertaining dreams.
And I am singularly lacking in ambition.
6. Could you spend a night in a morgue?
I don't see the problem. Dead people are just dead people. I've never understood why ghosts are supposed to be scary, either.
7. Have you ever wished someone real, physical harm or death?
Yes. But only for a minute.
8. Do you like Bush, the [US] president?
He has united the world (albeit only in mockery of him). Give the man a prize.
9. What happens when you die? How about when I die? And when a manatee dies?
I get buried in a cardboard box, after my body gets looted for whatever organs look useful. The manatee quietly sinks to the ocean floor and gets et. As for you, well, that depends on whatever arrangements you've made; don't ask me.
10. We escape. Where to, and how?
We rise up, rise up with fists, and fight our way to a land of free chocolate, and feather duvets. And no alarm clocks. At all. Ever.
11. Would you rather date a cop or a dealer in hard drugs?
Do I have to?
...
Okay, having given the matter some thought, I'll take a man in uniform.
12. What's the easiest way to distinguish Alanis Morisette from Ani di Franco?
Offer her a plate of poutine. If she recognises it as food, she's Canadian.
13. What is your fondest memory of a boy/girl/otherfriend?
It involves a mole, not on my face, being called a beauty spot. I bet he doesn't even remember, but it changed the way I saw myself.
14. If you could change anything about me, what would you change?
*sigh*
Wytchfynder dear, I would tone down that stirring habit just a tad. (Yes yes, I know, you don't stir. Whatever.)
15. It's a stay-at-home Saturday, you're all alone. What do you wear?
Winter: flannel PJs. Summer: not much.
16. Pee in the shower much?
EWWWWW! (I like that "much". Like it's a normal thing. You just keep telling yourself that, dear.)
17. Justice. Your thoughts?
If there were any justice in the world, I could eat all the chocolate I want, and there would be no alarm clocks. None.
18. If you only had one day to live, and my company, what would we do together?
This being Wytchfynder? Probably argue. (But, you know, in a friendly, stimulating and entirely constructive way.)
19. What is your favorite thing about puppies?
BELLIES! Fuzzy bellies! Oh yes. Mmmm. Puppy bellies.
I want a puppy.
20. Jessica Biel or Jessica Simpson - YOU CAN ONLY SAVE ONE! Who lives?
I do.
21. What's your favorite skin color?
Freckly, and anybody who loves me had better say the same, you hear? You hear? Freckles must reclaim the respect of the world!
22. If you could bring back anyone that has passed, who would it be?
Buffy. Buffy should totally come back on TV. And it's not like she doesn't have plenty of practice at the whole resurrection thing.
23. Good genes or suck-tacular? If the first, planning to propagate them?
Pretty good. I didn't get the genius bits, but I do seem to have avoided the lunacy, so that's okay. Most of the rest of my problems are of my own making. As for propagation — not that the world needs it, but I'm afraid it will probably happen, yes.
So somebody needs to raise quite a lot of Poondz quite quickly for the sake of The Theatah and, you know, we like The Theatah, we think it is Good.
We also think that this is the most cleverest and also silliest Poondzraising idea we have come across in a goodly while, and we are big fans of clever silliness here at the Scrivenings, oh yes we are.
So you buy a word. For a single Poond. Nifty eh? You get to choose the word and everything. Brilliant. Being a Patron of the Arts was never this much fun.
You can buy more than one if you like. I did. I bought "everything" and "sunlight" and "splish", because they are happy sounding words. And then I bought "brains". Because, well. Braaaainnssss.
No, you can't have it, it's mine. I got there first.
So there I was, minding my own business, when to my shock I felt a copper tapping me on the shoulder. A novel and frightening experience (yes, I have led a very sheltered life). In a very British bobby sort of way, polite but firm, he suggested that I might want to oblige him with a list of 10 things I would never do.
Well, that's a tricky one. After all, helping the police with their enquiries is pretty high on the list of things I never expected to be doing. So having mulled* the question for a while, I've concluded I really don't dare make an official statement of such a very... definite nature. What happens if I'm wrong? Bad things happen to people who lie to coppers. I watch TV. I know these things.
Here, therefore, is a list of 10 things I think it would be highly unlikely for me ever to do. I hope this satisfies my civic obligations.
1. Undergo gender reassignment surgery.**
2. Eat baked beans with anchovies.***
3. Complete a knitted project correctly, on the first try, without changing my mind about any of it.****
4. Do work as soon as I can, rather than as late as I can get away with.****
5. Retrain as a marine biologist.*****
6. Join Rotary.
7. Stop whining about the painful absence of Days of our Lives and Gilmore Girls from the TV schedules.****
8. Eat a spider. (Knowingly. Before I start one of those conversations about how many spiders the average person ingests during their sleep, can I just emphasise: knowingly.)
9. Reject cookie consumption as a valid strategy for coping with the size of my thighs, stress and unhappiness caused by.****
10. Get a tan.****
_____
* Lots of cinnamon, not too much naartjie. Tasty.
** But, y'know, if you want to, that's cool.
*** Baked beans with anything would be pretty darn unlikely, but I figured I'd add anchovies to be on the safe side.
**** These items are all statements of simple probability, rather than principle.
***** Although I'm sure it's a lovely career for some.
