Shennanigans
He's hitting on you, she nodded assuredly, standing in the grotty toilets of the Sugarmill, shouting to be heard over the screaming of the lead singer (who was throwing himself in a very dangerous-looking way at the lead guitarist, who gyrated against his guitar violently). Look. I can't believe you never notice this.
She always needs someone to point these things out to her, she told our lift for the night. She's oblivious. I never know what to do when so many people expect things from me. He's nice! she nudged me. Being nice is not enough to base an interest on. Nor does it persuade me to to whatever it is the nudging indirectly orders me to.
I could not be any less interested. Not even if he had six eyes. Which would make him slightly more interesting in a freaky way, but not interesting enough in an oh-I-like-you way.
Our lift for the night backed into a little red number at a petrol station with a terrifying scrape and crunch, before taking us to Subway at midnight, red paint streaked across his silver car. She gave him a guilt-kiss before she opened the car door, parked outside her house. I was trapped in the back, pretending to be very interested in my phone-without-battery-power.
Today, in a continuation of goodness after the badness of the last few days, I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean at the cinema. And was greatly confused by the brain-licking incident. Apparently I must see the second from the trilogy to understand anything. Also, was very disappointed by lack of interval. Almost all the way through I was thinking, it MUST be over half way through, now. It MUST; I need COFFEE.
The general conclusion I came blinking from the screen with is that Keira Knightly has it good all the way through, and then ruins it. She has a choice of Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom, and emerges at the end with some rubbish one-day-per-every-ten-years deal. Pfft. Silly girl.
This was followed by Pizza Hut shennanigans (where in fact THERE WAS NO PIZZA at the buffet for a long, long time, and we almost died of disappointment and hunger). Matt amused Nick and myself with belt-wriggling and the "beeping of bees". Pregnant-cow noises also featured. I have possibly never laughed so much. (Apart from on the phone last week. I said "This really takes the biscuit...", and that was us gone for twenty minutes or so.)
These happenings are only slightly marred by the overhanging (pendulous) thunder cloud of revision. This next week will be manic, and therefore this will be the last blog entry for a while. Au revoir, my possums!
She always needs someone to point these things out to her, she told our lift for the night. She's oblivious. I never know what to do when so many people expect things from me. He's nice! she nudged me. Being nice is not enough to base an interest on. Nor does it persuade me to to whatever it is the nudging indirectly orders me to.
I could not be any less interested. Not even if he had six eyes. Which would make him slightly more interesting in a freaky way, but not interesting enough in an oh-I-like-you way.
Our lift for the night backed into a little red number at a petrol station with a terrifying scrape and crunch, before taking us to Subway at midnight, red paint streaked across his silver car. She gave him a guilt-kiss before she opened the car door, parked outside her house. I was trapped in the back, pretending to be very interested in my phone-without-battery-power.
Today, in a continuation of goodness after the badness of the last few days, I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean at the cinema. And was greatly confused by the brain-licking incident. Apparently I must see the second from the trilogy to understand anything. Also, was very disappointed by lack of interval. Almost all the way through I was thinking, it MUST be over half way through, now. It MUST; I need COFFEE.
The general conclusion I came blinking from the screen with is that Keira Knightly has it good all the way through, and then ruins it. She has a choice of Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom, and emerges at the end with some rubbish one-day-per-every-ten-years deal. Pfft. Silly girl.
This was followed by Pizza Hut shennanigans (where in fact THERE WAS NO PIZZA at the buffet for a long, long time, and we almost died of disappointment and hunger). Matt amused Nick and myself with belt-wriggling and the "beeping of bees". Pregnant-cow noises also featured. I have possibly never laughed so much. (Apart from on the phone last week. I said "This really takes the biscuit...", and that was us gone for twenty minutes or so.)
These happenings are only slightly marred by the overhanging (pendulous) thunder cloud of revision. This next week will be manic, and therefore this will be the last blog entry for a while. Au revoir, my possums!
kiwiqueen - 30. May, 19:43