AM, I have to say that I really am proud of you. for saying it 'out loud' without (almost) making any stupid jokes in between.
i am completely and utterly convinced though that my problem is psychological. hence it can be fixed. i shall start fixing it in Derbyshire tomorrow between the mountains and the valleys.
PS! whatever happened to Frenchie's participation in these discussions?. uuuuuu, Frenchie, where are you Scooby-Doo.
PS2! these 'episodes' really are bonus.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
On sexual behaviours and other such things.
Thank you D, for your Wikipedia entry.
As possibly, no - definitely the only other of the four who can appreciate your situation, I should perhaps elaborate to our readers that I have yet to pop my cherry. Well, rather, it is not yet popped by anyone else. There are many reasons for this, amongst them many insecurities when I was younger and now, older and wiser, knowing that if I've waited this long, I can wait to have sex with someone who I trust slightly more than the stranger I meet while ordering my next G&T. I DO have to trust them - it's not that I would judge anyone who did not know the name of their cherry picker (I myself am not completely averse to this theory) - simply, whether I know his name or not, I have to be sure that the man is not going to run off screaming when he sees me in my birthday suit - stretch marks, thunderthighs (actually, the thighs aren't my main concern!) and all. Don't get me wrong - I've become perfectly happy in the person I am, I just think my ME deserves a respectful man and in order to respect me, one should know me well (I can often leave a strange impression upon first meeting). I'm lovely but a little kooky, y'know?
So anyway, this leads me back to my search for the Fruit Man. For a long time, I just wanted a boyfriend. I thought I was missing out on something because I wasn't in love. Then I threw myself in to being the Single Girl, but to be the SG, one goes the complete opposite direction from Relationship Girl. In fact, one runs screaming towards the pub and gives the majority of men scathing looks, even in response to a simple 'Hello' or 'I'm so sorry, could you move? Your chair is on my coat'. This worked for me for a while as I thought I was proving to myself I could do it alone, whatever IT was. THEN my friends started p-a-i-r-i-n-g off. Not all of them but enough to realise that I had to find a middle ground in my dealings with men. What did I do? I threw myself in to work and drinking and smoking and DVDs. And chocolate. And then I realised I hadn't actually met any nice men recently. And then I contemplated lesbianism, only to realise however much I wished I could be, I wasn't a lesbian. A one night fling, maybe, but not something where I really knew their name... Shallow? Yes. Bad? Certainly not. So the only other option is men, unfortunately, and this truly was a disaster - some weeks ago I realised I wasn't sexually attracted to, well, anyone, at least, not recently. Recently meaning as far back as I can remember (this isn't necessarily a VERY long stretch of time - alchohol and age begin to play dirty tricks!). Even men I once wished to have passionate affairs with have become drinking buddies who excite me sexually no more than a dustball would. Yes, I had become asexual. As I stood in front of Waterloo station today waiting for a bus, five men passed me in quick succession and the only enthusiasm I could muster was that they all looked strange, just slightly off. Not attractive, not ugly, not even average. STRANGE. It was as if these men's faces had an alien appeal - something I had never seen and so could not place in any category I had previously considered. I just didn't recognise them as something that could ever appeal to me. If those five men (bless them, I hope they wouldn't take offence to this) were lined up and I was told I would have to choose one to have sex with to save my life, I wouldn't differentiate at all between them, probably choosing one based on the quality or look of his suit.
WHY GOD, WHY!? I like an orgasm as much as anyone else. I like a good make-out session as much as the next girl. Why oh why is it that nothing excites me more than a new episode of Grey's Anatomy? This, by the way, is a catastrophe as the 3rd season has now ended and I will be excitementless (and frustrationless) until the Autumn. Let us just hope one less distraction will drive me to drink as a cure for boredom and this will make all men around me so blurry that that one will begin to look like Colin Firth (ok, I suppose I'm not completely asexual) and the next morning I'll vaguely recall promising to go out with him next week and be pressured in to being nice him, to the point that I might kiss him and realise he's good at it. And that I enjoy it. And then just forget the issues and go for 3rd base because I've forgotten what 3rd base feels like.
Fingers crossed ladies.
As possibly, no - definitely the only other of the four who can appreciate your situation, I should perhaps elaborate to our readers that I have yet to pop my cherry. Well, rather, it is not yet popped by anyone else. There are many reasons for this, amongst them many insecurities when I was younger and now, older and wiser, knowing that if I've waited this long, I can wait to have sex with someone who I trust slightly more than the stranger I meet while ordering my next G&T. I DO have to trust them - it's not that I would judge anyone who did not know the name of their cherry picker (I myself am not completely averse to this theory) - simply, whether I know his name or not, I have to be sure that the man is not going to run off screaming when he sees me in my birthday suit - stretch marks, thunderthighs (actually, the thighs aren't my main concern!) and all. Don't get me wrong - I've become perfectly happy in the person I am, I just think my ME deserves a respectful man and in order to respect me, one should know me well (I can often leave a strange impression upon first meeting). I'm lovely but a little kooky, y'know?
So anyway, this leads me back to my search for the Fruit Man. For a long time, I just wanted a boyfriend. I thought I was missing out on something because I wasn't in love. Then I threw myself in to being the Single Girl, but to be the SG, one goes the complete opposite direction from Relationship Girl. In fact, one runs screaming towards the pub and gives the majority of men scathing looks, even in response to a simple 'Hello' or 'I'm so sorry, could you move? Your chair is on my coat'. This worked for me for a while as I thought I was proving to myself I could do it alone, whatever IT was. THEN my friends started p-a-i-r-i-n-g off. Not all of them but enough to realise that I had to find a middle ground in my dealings with men. What did I do? I threw myself in to work and drinking and smoking and DVDs. And chocolate. And then I realised I hadn't actually met any nice men recently. And then I contemplated lesbianism, only to realise however much I wished I could be, I wasn't a lesbian. A one night fling, maybe, but not something where I really knew their name... Shallow? Yes. Bad? Certainly not. So the only other option is men, unfortunately, and this truly was a disaster - some weeks ago I realised I wasn't sexually attracted to, well, anyone, at least, not recently. Recently meaning as far back as I can remember (this isn't necessarily a VERY long stretch of time - alchohol and age begin to play dirty tricks!). Even men I once wished to have passionate affairs with have become drinking buddies who excite me sexually no more than a dustball would. Yes, I had become asexual. As I stood in front of Waterloo station today waiting for a bus, five men passed me in quick succession and the only enthusiasm I could muster was that they all looked strange, just slightly off. Not attractive, not ugly, not even average. STRANGE. It was as if these men's faces had an alien appeal - something I had never seen and so could not place in any category I had previously considered. I just didn't recognise them as something that could ever appeal to me. If those five men (bless them, I hope they wouldn't take offence to this) were lined up and I was told I would have to choose one to have sex with to save my life, I wouldn't differentiate at all between them, probably choosing one based on the quality or look of his suit.
WHY GOD, WHY!? I like an orgasm as much as anyone else. I like a good make-out session as much as the next girl. Why oh why is it that nothing excites me more than a new episode of Grey's Anatomy? This, by the way, is a catastrophe as the 3rd season has now ended and I will be excitementless (and frustrationless) until the Autumn. Let us just hope one less distraction will drive me to drink as a cure for boredom and this will make all men around me so blurry that that one will begin to look like Colin Firth (ok, I suppose I'm not completely asexual) and the next morning I'll vaguely recall promising to go out with him next week and be pressured in to being nice him, to the point that I might kiss him and realise he's good at it. And that I enjoy it. And then just forget the issues and go for 3rd base because I've forgotten what 3rd base feels like.
Fingers crossed ladies.
On Asexuality...
Great news my little darlings.
Firstly a little education (for which send your thank-you notes to Wikipedia):
Aexuality is a general term or self-designation for people who do not exhibit sexual attraction, or who otherwise find sexual behaviour unappealing.
There is a debate as to whether this is a sexual dysfunction or sexual orientation.
Furthermore, there is disagreement over the exact definition of the word. The term is sometimes used as a gender identity by those who believe their general lack of sexual attraction places them outside the traditional definitions of gender. There has been little research done on asexuality, but those studies that have been conducted suggest that, if it is a sexual orientation, it is among the least common. A commonly used description is that they feel one can get more pleasure from eating a bar of chocolate than having sexual contact of any kind with another human being or an animal.
Ok. i have not exhibited sexual attraction for way too long to even think about it any more. i never did find sexual behaviour 'unappealing' though. and about dysfunction- i was incredibly bored this morning. So bored that i decided to wipe off the dust (metaphorically speaking) from Frank (Vibrator The Second). and guess what...i most definately still function. better than that, i function several times in a row. i am sorry if this is a bit too much information but i thought you would like to know that perhaps i'm only a half-freak. it follows however, that i might have problems with my 'gender identity', whatever that actually is.
nevertheless, ever an optimist, i figure that if man was genius enough to invent batteries and make some rubber and plastic vibrate, there must be a man/woman genius enough to provide the same services with their body.
but...i believe i still like chocolate a little too much.
for now though, this morning's discoveries were positively enlightening.
Hurray!I WILL LIKE SEX WITH ANOTHER HUMAN BEING AGAIN!
Firstly a little education (for which send your thank-you notes to Wikipedia):
Aexuality is a general term or self-designation for people who do not exhibit sexual attraction, or who otherwise find sexual behaviour unappealing.
There is a debate as to whether this is a sexual dysfunction or sexual orientation.
Furthermore, there is disagreement over the exact definition of the word. The term is sometimes used as a gender identity by those who believe their general lack of sexual attraction places them outside the traditional definitions of gender. There has been little research done on asexuality, but those studies that have been conducted suggest that, if it is a sexual orientation, it is among the least common. A commonly used description is that they feel one can get more pleasure from eating a bar of chocolate than having sexual contact of any kind with another human being or an animal.
Ok. i have not exhibited sexual attraction for way too long to even think about it any more. i never did find sexual behaviour 'unappealing' though. and about dysfunction- i was incredibly bored this morning. So bored that i decided to wipe off the dust (metaphorically speaking) from Frank (Vibrator The Second). and guess what...i most definately still function. better than that, i function several times in a row. i am sorry if this is a bit too much information but i thought you would like to know that perhaps i'm only a half-freak. it follows however, that i might have problems with my 'gender identity', whatever that actually is.
nevertheless, ever an optimist, i figure that if man was genius enough to invent batteries and make some rubber and plastic vibrate, there must be a man/woman genius enough to provide the same services with their body.
but...i believe i still like chocolate a little too much.
for now though, this morning's discoveries were positively enlightening.
Hurray!I WILL LIKE SEX WITH ANOTHER HUMAN BEING AGAIN!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
conversations.....
D: Say something!
AM: Do you want me to type? I type faster.
BB: God, you're such freaks.
D: Oh, you have to put that in!
AM: I AM. So here we go...
D: *squeals of laughter*
BB: So what are we talking about exactly?
D: Four minus one.
BB:The saddest moment of our history? Especially when another individual left a year ago (The Nazi), no one cared. It's actually quite sad how shallow we are.
D:I'm not shallow, I'm just happy. Aah. Mama aren't you gonna add something?
BB: A little somethin' somethin'?
AM: I would - except I'm busy typing.
BB: But hello, you were supposed to be paying attention!
D: I'm very much into losing the 'g' today.
AM: So how do we feel without Frenchie?
BB: We feel not loved.
D: I think she SHOULD come back and clean up the flat. I actually offered to clean myself.
BB: You stupid person.
AM: So 6 bags huh - not including handbag?
D: So how are you feeling. I'm an al-co-ho-lic
AM: I'm feeling like I'm sick of you two already.
BB: Well, you're not talking really, are you.
D: She did that on purpose because she wants to add something. Now I'm annoyed. You're not sick of us.. yet.
BB: If she's sick she can leave.
D: Says the vegetarian of the year.
BB: I'm not the vegetarian of the year yet.
D: You're a finalist! SIGH. Can we call A and get some weed please...
BB: You can call her.
AM: Can you get back to the topic now.
D: Who, Frenchie? Well the point was to report this whole conversation but i guess you're not able to do that, are you.
I refuse to accept that she's left.
BB: I think I probably won't realise it until next week.
D: Well, I'll realise it when I'm really sick of you guys.
BB: Don't worry, I'll be really busy doing other things when you realise it.
D: *Evil look to BB* What would you prefer to be hit with?
BB: A pack of cigarettes!
D: I KNEW you would say that. (To AM) TYPE AWAAAAAAY!
*AM reads text back to girls*
BB: Do we really sounds like that?
AM: So what are we doing now?
D: I'm smoking, BB is asking for a cigarette and doing something on the Mac.
D: Do you know AM, when I called you and asked you to buy cigarettes, your flatmate said she didn't want to smoke.
BB: I didn't say that.
D: You sounded like you didn't want to smoke.
BB: If you thought that you were demented.
*They begin to discuss something about moo's in the field*
Ok, It's Mama now. I can't focus on these people any more. They sound like they're high even without the greenery. * To BB: What's 'koik voolab' in English?* So yeah, Frenchie, panta rhei darling.
D: (o BB) Maybe I'll actually make it to your birthday this year.
BB: You better.
D: Maybe I better start using my 2007 calendar. Ooh, I found a feather.
BB: Do you have a chicken living here? If so, oh my god I can't be here.
*Divorcee puts feather on Mama's hand and she brushes it to the floor*
D: Did you just .. ch ch ch ch!?
BB: Did you what? (Looks at AM)
D: (To no one) I just farted a little.
BB: So did the man continue farting next to you yesterday?
D: Yeah, but it got better because I kept sniffing at him so I think he got that he should hold it in.*D laughs like an idiot.*
D: God, do you feel like you're high?
BB: I feel like you're high.
*BTW, typing and not talking isn't fun*
BB: How's Alabama Mama doing? Missin Dwight?
AM: No.
BB: I wonder how long Dwight and Jake are going to be on that fishing trip (referring to odd cross-dressing incident after watching 'She's the Man'). Maybe they'll bring back a whale.
D: Then you'll have to cook a whale.
BB: See, I'm not married to Jake. I won't have to cook it.
D: That would need a large pot
BB: Hey, remember the whale stuck in the Thames?
D: Willie?
BB: Why did it die again?
D: (With a straight face) Because everyone was looking at it.
AM: No, it had some kind of disease.
D: And the river water wasn't good.
AM: Actually, when the whale was stuck I was staying at Frenchie's and Nazi's and I was so worried about it. So when Frenchie and I were up late and watching the news and it hadn't been saved yet, after I went to bed she left me a note giving me the update on it. So cute.
*more conversation AM didn't manage to type. It was all about 'no fuck'.*
*Girls in tears after reading previous conversation*
D: This conversation is missing a few links in between.
BB: But we're remembereing nice things about Frenchie.
D: If we keep mentioning her shoes and things, it's almost like we're talking to her.* Divorcee makes weird gestures*
AM: You know she's not dead. You're talking about her like she was.
BB: Well, she's in another country.
D: We should do this like every day. Type all our conversations. Oh, BB, go to the kitchen quickly! Seriously.
BB: What do you want. (Her face is spelling hate)
D: Diet coke. Otherwise I'm going to die like Willie.
BB: You'd die because you're not moving?
D: No, because everyone is looking at me.
Gimme a word that ends in a g.
AM: Fucking.
D: Fuckin. gimme more. Ooh, sleepin.
BB:Touchin, feelin, hopin, dreamin...
*AM sings 'Wishin and Hoping' by Ani DiFranco*
D: That's like my song, it has so many missing g's.
*Pause*
D: We should discuss politics now.
BB: Yeah, that will bring us closer.
D: To each other? Closer to WHAT?
BB: To Frenchie!
*AM says someting about socialism*
D: Did you just say something intelligent? All I heard was socialist. Oh my god, the prawn just jumped out of the water. (She's referring to burping after she ate prawns)
AM: What about the sweet and sour sauce? Did that jump too?
D: I didn't have any. It might taste a little sweet and maybe a little sour but it's not a sweet and sour.
AM: It's sweet chilli. Fine.
BB: New topic - you know Saatchi and Saatchi? It has its own pub named 'The Pregnant Man'.
D: Don't you know that Sting has his own pub.
BB: You know that Bono has his own pub too.
AM: Well we know Bono is the answer to everything.
BB: He is.
D: Yeah he is. Really! *Sigh* I know this great pub.
AM: Really. What pub?
D: John Smith's Extra Smooth.
AM: Is that the pub in your head? Aah. It's the pub in your hand (she's drinking from the glass that says John Smith's Extra Smooth).
D: You know what I think?
BB: No, I really don't.
D: I think you should log on to the AA page. Not the car service. The alcoholics.
BB: And?
D: Check if they're looking for the sexiest ex-alcoholic and see if you can be nominated.
AM: EX alcoholic?
BB: Yeah, I like the whole being on the wrong side of the tracks. Does the AA have a webpage?
D: AA.com.
BB: Oh yeah, they do.
AM: How is it?
BB: I'm checking, oh wait, I have to check the English one.
*Divorcee is in a space shuttle. She's holding the glass over her mouth and speaking in to it*
BB: You sound like 'siil udus' (the hedgehog in the fog)
D: 'siil udus' didn't talk.
BB: What is alcoholics anonymous? Staying sober? Ooh, the 'Information for friends and family' page. Yeah, we'll do the friends and family bit. Oh no... it's like a group. That's so boring. Wait, there's a test!!! 'Do you think you might be an alcoholic'!?
*Break for the test*
Turns out Divorcee is an alcoholic. If you answer yes to more than 1 thing you could be an alcoholic, two and you're probably an alcoholic. Three - you're definitely an alcoholic and seek help. She said yes 8 times before she realised this. She's seeking help from the Smooth John Smith's glass. (AM)
Frenchie - did you find your skirt?
PS. I love you Frenchie. (by D) We love you too. Probably more. (by Alabama Mama and Bam Bam)
AM: Do you want me to type? I type faster.
BB: God, you're such freaks.
D: Oh, you have to put that in!
AM: I AM. So here we go...
D: *squeals of laughter*
BB: So what are we talking about exactly?
D: Four minus one.
BB:The saddest moment of our history? Especially when another individual left a year ago (The Nazi), no one cared. It's actually quite sad how shallow we are.
D:I'm not shallow, I'm just happy. Aah. Mama aren't you gonna add something?
BB: A little somethin' somethin'?
AM: I would - except I'm busy typing.
BB: But hello, you were supposed to be paying attention!
D: I'm very much into losing the 'g' today.
AM: So how do we feel without Frenchie?
BB: We feel not loved.
D: I think she SHOULD come back and clean up the flat. I actually offered to clean myself.
BB: You stupid person.
AM: So 6 bags huh - not including handbag?
D: So how are you feeling. I'm an al-co-ho-lic
AM: I'm feeling like I'm sick of you two already.
BB: Well, you're not talking really, are you.
D: She did that on purpose because she wants to add something. Now I'm annoyed. You're not sick of us.. yet.
BB: If she's sick she can leave.
D: Says the vegetarian of the year.
BB: I'm not the vegetarian of the year yet.
D: You're a finalist! SIGH. Can we call A and get some weed please...
BB: You can call her.
AM: Can you get back to the topic now.
D: Who, Frenchie? Well the point was to report this whole conversation but i guess you're not able to do that, are you.
I refuse to accept that she's left.
BB: I think I probably won't realise it until next week.
D: Well, I'll realise it when I'm really sick of you guys.
BB: Don't worry, I'll be really busy doing other things when you realise it.
D: *Evil look to BB* What would you prefer to be hit with?
BB: A pack of cigarettes!
D: I KNEW you would say that. (To AM) TYPE AWAAAAAAY!
*AM reads text back to girls*
BB: Do we really sounds like that?
AM: So what are we doing now?
D: I'm smoking, BB is asking for a cigarette and doing something on the Mac.
D: Do you know AM, when I called you and asked you to buy cigarettes, your flatmate said she didn't want to smoke.
BB: I didn't say that.
D: You sounded like you didn't want to smoke.
BB: If you thought that you were demented.
*They begin to discuss something about moo's in the field*
Ok, It's Mama now. I can't focus on these people any more. They sound like they're high even without the greenery. * To BB: What's 'koik voolab' in English?* So yeah, Frenchie, panta rhei darling.
D: (o BB) Maybe I'll actually make it to your birthday this year.
BB: You better.
D: Maybe I better start using my 2007 calendar. Ooh, I found a feather.
BB: Do you have a chicken living here? If so, oh my god I can't be here.
*Divorcee puts feather on Mama's hand and she brushes it to the floor*
D: Did you just .. ch ch ch ch!?
BB: Did you what? (Looks at AM)
D: (To no one) I just farted a little.
BB: So did the man continue farting next to you yesterday?
D: Yeah, but it got better because I kept sniffing at him so I think he got that he should hold it in.*D laughs like an idiot.*
D: God, do you feel like you're high?
BB: I feel like you're high.
*BTW, typing and not talking isn't fun*
BB: How's Alabama Mama doing? Missin Dwight?
AM: No.
BB: I wonder how long Dwight and Jake are going to be on that fishing trip (referring to odd cross-dressing incident after watching 'She's the Man'). Maybe they'll bring back a whale.
D: Then you'll have to cook a whale.
BB: See, I'm not married to Jake. I won't have to cook it.
D: That would need a large pot
BB: Hey, remember the whale stuck in the Thames?
D: Willie?
BB: Why did it die again?
D: (With a straight face) Because everyone was looking at it.
AM: No, it had some kind of disease.
D: And the river water wasn't good.
AM: Actually, when the whale was stuck I was staying at Frenchie's and Nazi's and I was so worried about it. So when Frenchie and I were up late and watching the news and it hadn't been saved yet, after I went to bed she left me a note giving me the update on it. So cute.
*more conversation AM didn't manage to type. It was all about 'no fuck'.*
*Girls in tears after reading previous conversation*
D: This conversation is missing a few links in between.
BB: But we're remembereing nice things about Frenchie.
D: If we keep mentioning her shoes and things, it's almost like we're talking to her.* Divorcee makes weird gestures*
AM: You know she's not dead. You're talking about her like she was.
BB: Well, she's in another country.
D: We should do this like every day. Type all our conversations. Oh, BB, go to the kitchen quickly! Seriously.
BB: What do you want. (Her face is spelling hate)
D: Diet coke. Otherwise I'm going to die like Willie.
BB: You'd die because you're not moving?
D: No, because everyone is looking at me.
Gimme a word that ends in a g.
AM: Fucking.
D: Fuckin. gimme more. Ooh, sleepin.
BB:Touchin, feelin, hopin, dreamin...
*AM sings 'Wishin and Hoping' by Ani DiFranco*
D: That's like my song, it has so many missing g's.
*Pause*
D: We should discuss politics now.
BB: Yeah, that will bring us closer.
D: To each other? Closer to WHAT?
BB: To Frenchie!
*AM says someting about socialism*
D: Did you just say something intelligent? All I heard was socialist. Oh my god, the prawn just jumped out of the water. (She's referring to burping after she ate prawns)
AM: What about the sweet and sour sauce? Did that jump too?
D: I didn't have any. It might taste a little sweet and maybe a little sour but it's not a sweet and sour.
AM: It's sweet chilli. Fine.
BB: New topic - you know Saatchi and Saatchi? It has its own pub named 'The Pregnant Man'.
D: Don't you know that Sting has his own pub.
BB: You know that Bono has his own pub too.
AM: Well we know Bono is the answer to everything.
BB: He is.
D: Yeah he is. Really! *Sigh* I know this great pub.
AM: Really. What pub?
D: John Smith's Extra Smooth.
AM: Is that the pub in your head? Aah. It's the pub in your hand (she's drinking from the glass that says John Smith's Extra Smooth).
D: You know what I think?
BB: No, I really don't.
D: I think you should log on to the AA page. Not the car service. The alcoholics.
BB: And?
D: Check if they're looking for the sexiest ex-alcoholic and see if you can be nominated.
AM: EX alcoholic?
BB: Yeah, I like the whole being on the wrong side of the tracks. Does the AA have a webpage?
D: AA.com.
BB: Oh yeah, they do.
AM: How is it?
BB: I'm checking, oh wait, I have to check the English one.
*Divorcee is in a space shuttle. She's holding the glass over her mouth and speaking in to it*
BB: You sound like 'siil udus' (the hedgehog in the fog)
D: 'siil udus' didn't talk.
BB: What is alcoholics anonymous? Staying sober? Ooh, the 'Information for friends and family' page. Yeah, we'll do the friends and family bit. Oh no... it's like a group. That's so boring. Wait, there's a test!!! 'Do you think you might be an alcoholic'!?
*Break for the test*
Turns out Divorcee is an alcoholic. If you answer yes to more than 1 thing you could be an alcoholic, two and you're probably an alcoholic. Three - you're definitely an alcoholic and seek help. She said yes 8 times before she realised this. She's seeking help from the Smooth John Smith's glass. (AM)
Frenchie - did you find your skirt?
PS. I love you Frenchie. (by D) We love you too. Probably more. (by Alabama Mama and Bam Bam)
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
have you ever seen Frenchie yawn?
okidoki. officially the exams are over. unofficially they might all happen again in august or next may. that is if i'm lucky. and then at one point i'm supposed to decide what i want to do. because i know so well. haha. also there is a short course in csms called finding your comedy voice. someone suggested i take that course. ouch.
mummy is coming on thursday. i.e. tomorrow which is great because i miss her and i've been sort of jealous seeing all the parents go through here within the last few weeks (except for frenchie, but she goes to france quite often anyways). also even though i'm a GROWN-UP now i still want mummy's shoulder to cry on about the miserable exams that definately are an example how the empty part of my brain can also produce thoughts. just thoughts that do not follow each other nor particularly mean anything.
the expo in france is approaching rather fast. much to do. have not done much at all. bad news is that the gallery said no, so now it'll probably be held in some dump in the middle of nowhere.
i've had guests for the past week or so whom i have not seen at all. partly because of the exams but also because i didn't want to. they are leaving today. and M-the-estonian-british-gentleman-eccentric is coming to stay for a night. not in my bed. in the study of course. i'm not sure he even does womens' beds. well maybe. but it doesn't matter. i like him. he is usually great fun in a really weird sense.
and tonight is the beer and pizza and let-me-pretend-that-i-like-football night. well some of us really do i have heard. like frenchie and mr.Kennedy. also miss Alabama claims to be interested in it but we shall see. if all else fails, there is still two bottles of whiskey in the kitchen. as the young and rather charming lady from (somewhere in) the US put it: I am an al-co-ho-lic. funny it almost reads like ca-tho-lic. summer course, definately.
oh, and it seems that my little lie to the Roman Holiday about going to have dinner with my boyfriends parents actually worked. he does not want to talk to me. well maybe he wants to but he no longer uses full sentences. and claims to no longer like London. supposedly it's too barbaric. as opposed to Rome where the men are so slimy they are actually smooth and civilized? someone explain the logic please. i take grat offence when our city is offended even though i myself hate it half of the time. anyways Roman Holiday is history now. all done.
Anything else.... yes, Divorcee's much-belowed little brother is moving to London next autumn and he just became even more beloved because he decided to spend his first year in the halls/student accommodation to make friends. don't you just love him.
will go now.
mummy is coming on thursday. i.e. tomorrow which is great because i miss her and i've been sort of jealous seeing all the parents go through here within the last few weeks (except for frenchie, but she goes to france quite often anyways). also even though i'm a GROWN-UP now i still want mummy's shoulder to cry on about the miserable exams that definately are an example how the empty part of my brain can also produce thoughts. just thoughts that do not follow each other nor particularly mean anything.
the expo in france is approaching rather fast. much to do. have not done much at all. bad news is that the gallery said no, so now it'll probably be held in some dump in the middle of nowhere.
i've had guests for the past week or so whom i have not seen at all. partly because of the exams but also because i didn't want to. they are leaving today. and M-the-estonian-british-gentleman-eccentric is coming to stay for a night. not in my bed. in the study of course. i'm not sure he even does womens' beds. well maybe. but it doesn't matter. i like him. he is usually great fun in a really weird sense.
and tonight is the beer and pizza and let-me-pretend-that-i-like-football night. well some of us really do i have heard. like frenchie and mr.Kennedy. also miss Alabama claims to be interested in it but we shall see. if all else fails, there is still two bottles of whiskey in the kitchen. as the young and rather charming lady from (somewhere in) the US put it: I am an al-co-ho-lic. funny it almost reads like ca-tho-lic. summer course, definately.
oh, and it seems that my little lie to the Roman Holiday about going to have dinner with my boyfriends parents actually worked. he does not want to talk to me. well maybe he wants to but he no longer uses full sentences. and claims to no longer like London. supposedly it's too barbaric. as opposed to Rome where the men are so slimy they are actually smooth and civilized? someone explain the logic please. i take grat offence when our city is offended even though i myself hate it half of the time. anyways Roman Holiday is history now. all done.
Anything else.... yes, Divorcee's much-belowed little brother is moving to London next autumn and he just became even more beloved because he decided to spend his first year in the halls/student accommodation to make friends. don't you just love him.
will go now.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
I thought it was time for another update - seems this blog might actually be fun to read some time in the future...
So, what's happened recently? It's been the month of the parents - my mother, Bam Bam's father THEN Mother, then Divorcee will be entertaining her dear mamma from Wednesday. We really should have thought of staging a 'family reunion' week so these visits wouldn't cut in to our limited 'us' drinking time. Admittedly, I smoked wantonly in front of my mother for the whole week and got her drunk on a fairly memorable occasion - still, one must pretend that an element of propriety remains!
It might be deemed appropriate to make a confession - Bam Bam and I seem to be cutting down on both our alcohol intake and our smoking habits. It's not the parents - it's us. Personally, I no longer have severe hangovers but am left feeling tired for days and smoking seems to be having vicious effects on my ability to drink - just this week I was drinking (was drunk on a mere three glasses of wine.. dreadful) and had to stop smoking - it was making me feel ill! I miss the days of disregard for such things as health and being able to wake up in the morning. It was all of little importance in the face of seeing the 6 am sunrise - after leaving a club following a particularly delicious evening, of course.
We've just realised that Frenchie will be leaving London soon. While this bodes well for the blog, it is very nearly disaster for us. While we all know we must prevail, it symbolises a new chapter we must open. I know no other way but to compare it to an international night out call - our version of the booty call. We will of course take in to account that a smoking ban will come in to force in England on the 1st of July. LUCKILY, the French have not yet contemplated this horrible existence so we will most likely happily acquiesce to travel. The third option lies a jump over the Western pond away, however until I make a decision whether to begin an AU branch there or not, we will not discuss this further. It's beyond my brain capacity for the moment.
Brain.
Brain.
I have a brain.
*fade in Tom Jones singing 'Sex Bomb'*
I HAVE A BRAIN. I am fantastic woman with self-confidence and self-loathing in equal measure, making me a woman of the 21st century. With international drinking rights.
Aah, Mr. Mouton has just arrived home from drinking in West London. I would venture out to see whether he has survived admirably or is the worse for wear, yet something tells me that I don't care enough at the moment, primarily as I have run out of cigarettes and my bed is far more comfortable than the chairs in our kitchen.
*Fade out Tom Jones, segue The Source feat Candi Station (which you can find on the right-hand sidebar of this page)*
I suppose this cosmopolitanism is something we've always wanted but never new how to accomplish - who knew it was so easy? Soon we'll have 4 continents covered and we'll own more bars than we know what to do with. At last, our interests put to good use. Allors - I forget. There's more than just the drinking. A male escort agency, perhaps?
God - we could start our own LVMH! Bars, cigarettes and international booty.
xx
So, what's happened recently? It's been the month of the parents - my mother, Bam Bam's father THEN Mother, then Divorcee will be entertaining her dear mamma from Wednesday. We really should have thought of staging a 'family reunion' week so these visits wouldn't cut in to our limited 'us' drinking time. Admittedly, I smoked wantonly in front of my mother for the whole week and got her drunk on a fairly memorable occasion - still, one must pretend that an element of propriety remains!
It might be deemed appropriate to make a confession - Bam Bam and I seem to be cutting down on both our alcohol intake and our smoking habits. It's not the parents - it's us. Personally, I no longer have severe hangovers but am left feeling tired for days and smoking seems to be having vicious effects on my ability to drink - just this week I was drinking (was drunk on a mere three glasses of wine.. dreadful) and had to stop smoking - it was making me feel ill! I miss the days of disregard for such things as health and being able to wake up in the morning. It was all of little importance in the face of seeing the 6 am sunrise - after leaving a club following a particularly delicious evening, of course.
We've just realised that Frenchie will be leaving London soon. While this bodes well for the blog, it is very nearly disaster for us. While we all know we must prevail, it symbolises a new chapter we must open. I know no other way but to compare it to an international night out call - our version of the booty call. We will of course take in to account that a smoking ban will come in to force in England on the 1st of July. LUCKILY, the French have not yet contemplated this horrible existence so we will most likely happily acquiesce to travel. The third option lies a jump over the Western pond away, however until I make a decision whether to begin an AU branch there or not, we will not discuss this further. It's beyond my brain capacity for the moment.
Brain.
Brain.
I have a brain.
*fade in Tom Jones singing 'Sex Bomb'*
I HAVE A BRAIN. I am fantastic woman with self-confidence and self-loathing in equal measure, making me a woman of the 21st century. With international drinking rights.
Aah, Mr. Mouton has just arrived home from drinking in West London. I would venture out to see whether he has survived admirably or is the worse for wear, yet something tells me that I don't care enough at the moment, primarily as I have run out of cigarettes and my bed is far more comfortable than the chairs in our kitchen.
*Fade out Tom Jones, segue The Source feat Candi Station (which you can find on the right-hand sidebar of this page)*
I suppose this cosmopolitanism is something we've always wanted but never new how to accomplish - who knew it was so easy? Soon we'll have 4 continents covered and we'll own more bars than we know what to do with. At last, our interests put to good use. Allors - I forget. There's more than just the drinking. A male escort agency, perhaps?
God - we could start our own LVMH! Bars, cigarettes and international booty.
xx
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