Friday, September 14, 2007

on a lighter note

Finally! Five minutes without the freeloader in my lap making it nigh impossible to write a single letter much less a sequence of legible sentences.

I had lunch with a girlfriend yesterday. We met at a restaurant near where she works for an hour of gossip that somehow whooshed by in about fifteen seconds. The next time we meet I think we should go somewhere that uses table clothes so we can save at least half our allloted time on departure by simply grabbing its corners and using it as a makeshift bag instead of playing tetrus with our armpits and struggling to find the best fit for all the bottles, magazines, purses, keys, sunglasses, phones, and whatever the fuck else we took along with us and ended up piling into our arms haphazardly and hurriedly post prandially . Of course we had to unpack everything to pay the (ridiculous) bill, which was $21.40 for a bottle of water, two coffees and a thimble sized serving of baba ghanoush, so next time, I think we should get our money's worth by trying the tablecloth method out, and see if it enables us to also smuggle out some silverware, maybe a plate or two and definitely three chairs.



Am wasting precious updatey time by being ridiculous. Meanwhile, the midget is lurking and looking at my lap like it was some kind of Aladin's cave filled with...sitting space, I guess.


God, would you look at the damn time. I've already got to go and I've also got a little short guy sitting on my lap drinking milk and putting his mitts all over the keyboard. That last bit is a lie. He's actually sitting quietly, but I needed a reason to explain all the typos.

I've got to get a tooth crowned at 10.30 (and here I sit in my damn pyjamas oh my god)
and if that fucker doesn't put a block in my jaw, leaving me a drooling idiot for A WHOLE DAY GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY, I should be free by 11.30, in which case I'll stop by my doctor's rooms and see if I can my results from that freakin' chest x-ray.

Seriously, only me. Good grief.

My hayfever got so bad I was (**warning** ick alert) coughing up blood. Very classy, that. My guess is that I don't have a too-mah growing in there but The Book of Whatever says things like your life force spewing copiously from any orifice needs to be reported to your medical professional. Or the tax office, I always get those two confused.


Y'all should have heard me speak sometime in the last three weeks. It's coming back now but my voice was SO husky. You'd have needed a cuddle and a cigarette after a mere phone call with me, it was that HOT. I totally could have made a bomb doing phone sex.

Must extract child from lap and cleanse myself in preparation for having my mouth propped open for way to long as evil tools of torture are systematically implemented. I can't wait. I am also a big fat liar.

2005-2007© aibee