And hence forth this day shall be known as…………..(01.07.09)

Posted: 18/10/2010 in ravings of a mad woman

I’m sitting here on my sisters garden steps looking out over the houses at the fading light, which seem to look a slightly funny colour (Barry seems to have its very own eco-system. A bit like the Eden Project but with FAR stranger wildlife and far fewer trees), rollie in hand and yet again trying to fend off the amorous advances of the dog. Today I decided to swallow my huge self-conscious side and brave the swimming pool. I went with Ry, Geoff, their two children (and spare daughter Ffion) and Lucy and her two, to act as an extra pair of “grown up” eyes. I use the term grown up very loosely as it is far from what I actually am. I did manage to resist the urge to drown ANY of them (adults included in that statement). I’m not exactly what you’d call the “maternal” type. The idea of having children (especially anytime soon!) seems almost as appealing to me as Chinese water torture. Mainly because I know that the torture would NOT last the minimum of 18 years with which you have to give up your life, home, comfort and shell out VAST amounts of cash on a regular basis. Plus unless you’re really into that kind of thing (in which case you’re even more tweaked then me!)the torture would be free.
No, I, yes I, dutifully played the role of responsible adult and I must admit I had a great time. Unfortunately I came away from the pool resembling some kind of small furry animal that had just been fished out of a blocked drain. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried it, but it’s not exactly the best look! Yes, I can see it now:
This years big thing! Designers around the world spending a fortune on dressing and making up their models only to throw a bucket of water over them, and push them stunned and bedraggled onto the catwalk to the hoards of waiting paparazzi.
Actually, you know, I think I might be on to something there. “Drowned Rat Chic”.
I tend not to sleep much when I’m on my own (this works back to my flighty nature somewhere I’m sure) and last night (Sunday) was no exception. I only gave into the forces of both nature and simple biology when my headache became too much to bare, and the computer screen began to take on a life of its own (if you’ve seen either of the transformers movies I’m sure you’ll be able to understand the sort of scenario I mean). I believe this was at roughly 6.30am. I was, however, in an insanely good mood and entertaining the people with whom I was having webcam conversations with my crazy woman esque bouncing around to some “bangin choons”. Now, I’m still slightly unsure as to where this good mood and excess energy actually came from as I came nowhere near filling my caffeine quota for the day. I do believe my little (oh the irony) rant may have contributed somewhat.
I’m feeling ever so slightly creative and have the urge to build something. Ah, but what to do? And before the thought occurs to you dear reader, I am not going to start building a fort here as well!
Oh yeah, Ry managed to add yet another phrase to our already vast and incomprehensible repertoire. ‘Holy Spaghetti-Boliognie’. Let this phrase go forth and seed itself into the minds of simpletons (although clearly not mindless simpletons, cause that would defeat the object a little wouldn’t it?!) worldwide. I have no doubt, and am under no illusions that this phrase will somehow manage to work its way into our rapidly increasing dance routine line-up. Come on everybody:
Salt Shaker
Mythological
Reflection
In the Face
Chuck them Boxes and
“Holy Spaghetti-Boliognie’!!!
Say it with feeling people! Let me know that you understand the significance of it!

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