Shallow, moi?

June 30, 2008

What’s that word, the one you would use to describe the feeling of reassurance you get from seeing others not do too well at things? It’s not shallow, it’s not really cruel as you don’t wish it on the other person nor are you glad that it’s happening to them – just glad it’s not happening to you. If only there was a thesaurus of vagueness I could use to look it up.

At present I am reassured that although I don’t think I’m doing very well with my money I am at least ticking over and standing still, unlike certain people of my acquaintance. It is always unfortunate when a rent cheque bounces but in this case the person will be able to cover it with a little rejigging of accounts. The idea of not having my rent makes me very sad in a nauseous way, and I hope it does not become a concern in the future when budgeting for a higher rent in the new house may be tricky.

What I find highly irritating in terms of financial failures is Housefolk Epsilon’s failure to pay the bills. All the other housefolks gave him the money a month ago, when the bill came, and now we are getting red letters. He said he was waiting until he got paid, but I think he already has been. And now he’s gone home – presumably to beg the money from his mum. Because he spent his on more computers. I kind of hope we get cut off – even though it will cause huge disruptions and loss to all of us – so I can justify my anger towards him for this, for putting us all at risk and impacting all our credit histories and being so drastically irresponsible. I even wonder if he spent our bill money, if maybe that is the reason he needs to beg a buy out.

Advertisements

Oh the shame

June 27, 2008

After my last post complaining about the terrible food smells from someone else’s cooking I am deeply ashamed to say my food last night was awful. At first it didn’t smell so bad, just a bit ripe, but it remained until the spices were added and tasted a little rancid. I am amazed we didn’t get ill from it. My stomach has superhero levels of indestructibility – its only nemesis is milk.

Generally I don’t have to much to be ashamed of or embarrassed by. I was a little embarrassed when reading Anais Nin on the train. I was a little embarrassed by the sound of the vibrator so we put the TV on. I realised I would be embarrassed wearing a bikini in front of my mum, but I checked and I don’t have to do that. I find cooking for people intimidating.

I think I must be losing my mind – for an entire 45 seconds I considered moving to Milton Keynes.


The delicious scent of roadkill

June 25, 2008

As I do not drive I’m not talking about actual roadkill. I am glad of this, as corpses make me sad.

I am of course referring to Housemate Epsilon’s culinery exploits which smelled suspiciously like roadkill. Usually a bad smell is a sign that you should not eat something, but I guess you never can be sure where canned meat comes from. I may not have the best diet but I would put money on me living longer than him. Also: spicy bean burgers for the nom – I don’t understand why some people willfully ingest gross things that give them heartburn and constipation. Bizarre self-destructive behaviour.

I was also upset last night when after watching pointless violent britflick Outlaw conversation drifted from comedy violence to sharing mugging stories, of which some people seem to be proud. I do not like to think about the time I was attacked. I do not like to consider what my reaction would be if I was attacked again – probably the same uncontrollable screaming. I do not like to be reminded that more than half the people I pass in the street could overpower me if they wanted to.

I am glad that I have a lovely man who gave me hugs after this conversation, and stroked my hair and made me laugh.


Jargon-tastic

June 24, 2008

It’s a popular thing to hate, but what can I say? I just don’t have the time to be interesting today. Along with the usual gumph I’ve come to expect (future proof? As in ‘you can’t get me now, future!#manic laughter#) I came across one I hadn’t seen before: sunsetting. As in ‘to sunset’ as in ‘I’m going to sunset your ass if you don’t stop pissing on my language’ which puts me in mind of cowboys. Apparently sunsetting is a prettier way of saying decommissioning. Obviously you can’t talk about something ugly and potentially damaging to the bottom line in business so you have to make up an obscure metaphor by brutalising an existing word into a different part of speach. I’m all for language evolution but this is just ridiculous.

I also fell out with the cat. She refused to come in last night because there was something killable under a bush so I left her out all night. She was very whiny in the morning but also grateful that she still owns my love so I think we’re cool.


So much fail

June 23, 2008

Ok, so I didn’t greet the dawn. After having been awake since 6am I crashed out around half twelve after watching White Men Can’t Jump, which I’d never seen before but was rather entertaining. Chances are dawn was clouded over anyway so there wouldn’t have been much to see. Having felt like a freak for having made the suggestion (probably why I gave in without much fight) I later saw a news report showing thousands greeting the dawn at Stone Henge. At least dawn wasn’t alone.

The rest of the weekend was relatively fail-free, apart from forgetting to buy worcester sauce. What will we do without it? I sense a multitude of potential culinery crises. And financial crises: after deciding I should make more effort to save money I bought a load of DVDs and ate out (again) on saturday. So not entirely without fails.

Today was quite a tragic fail which I only realised at lunchtime. In my early morning groggyblindness I have managed to put on odd shoes. They are very similar looking shoes but if you look at them for more than a glance it is clear that they don’t match. Goddamn monday.


Six hours of night

June 20, 2008

It sounds dramatic, like the title of a novel. Perhaps one day I will write ‘Six Hours of Night’ – the day I get my head out of my arse and stop being like all the other wannabes. Wanting to be is essentially meaningless as there is no real process that takes you from not being to being. Wanting to be a winner won’t help you unless you start the race. Wanting to be a writer won’t even begin to happen until I take pen to paper.

The idea of midsummer night is timelessly romantic (not in the sexual sense) and I have a small portion of desire to stay up through the 6 dark hours and wait for dawn. What I would do in those hours I’m not sure, probably cross stitch and watch the idiot box. Have people stopped using the phrase ‘idiot box’ since tvs became flat screen? I’ll have to do a survey.


Decisions

June 19, 2008

I have decided to open a second blog called Parody of Virtue for better thought out pieces of writing. This is after reading the comment I got about my ‘personal beliefs’ entry which made me realise that yes, this is a largely pointless and meandery blog, written for myself to clarify my thoughts in an attempt to maintain sanity and improve my mental agility. And vent, but that’s so obvious a thing to do with a blog it’s barely worth mentioning. On the one hand it’s my personal blog and although I am happy for people to read it I don’t write with an audience in mind. On the other hand I’m not helping myself as a writer if all I do is spaff out a train of thought every day. Writing quality reviews and opinion pieces will serve me much better and provide a better product should anyone happen to read it. Whether it will actually be any good or not I don’t know. It will probably begin somewhat subparr and improve with time.

This is breaking my brain somewhat as my motivation is being diverted from work ie the things I actually get paid to do. It doesn’t help that I find it harder to concentrate with menstruating but that’s usually fixed with a cup of coffee. Sidenote (and further indication of my hormone driven ADD) I discovered last night where I can buy frozen pig’s uterus. After all those stories you here about people chowing down on pig’s penis and it never once occured to me that pig’s uterus would be just as tasty. I wonder if it tastes different if the pig has had a litter?