Intentions

This summer, I intend to:

• Get something at least faintly resembling a tan in attempt to look healthy for possibly the first time in my life - and to be able to bare my skin next to Dave without feeling and looking like an ivory statue in comparison.
  
• Not burn to a crisp while attempting the above.
• Grow my nails long enough to justify getting an actual manicure. And not bite them afterwards. Ever again. I really am too old to be biting my nails now.
  
• Finish my fnucking novel, already. Yes, yes, I know, some people take years or lifetimes to write a novel, and I only started in January. But I'm not a slow writer; I'm just chronically lazy so I need to get over it if I ever hope to write more than one decent thing.
• Paint. Lots.
  
• Sell some designs to art trading companies.
  
• Keep Keith (my clinically insane goldfish) alive. This would be easier if he ate the food I put in his bowl, and if he didn't persist in trying to jump out of it all the time.
• Speak another language to people for no apparent reason, just to confuse them. Heheh.
• Take lots of pictures.
• Have a brilliant holiday (although this is guaranteed; there is no way a week's camping in Cornwall could go bad)
• Start dance lessons, at last! How long have we said we were going to do this for, Benny?
• Keep up healthy eating - but learn how to make it interesting. There's only so long you can enjoy a diet of cereal, pasta and grilled chicken just because you know it's good for you. Sooner or later you need to actually TASTE something.
• Start swimming again.
• Listen to lots of music. Attempt to fill my mp3 player almost exclusively with happy songs.

So... it's going to be a busy summer, what with working full time as well.
I am looking forward to it immensely. Well, I say looking forward to it... I guess it's already started.

Better get on with that novel, then.

Oh, and one more thing:

• DECIDE WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE.

I'm sure I can fit that in somewhere...

Belated birthday times

"Get the sleep out of your eye, it's gross."
"That's true friendship, that is, being able to say to someone in the middle of a nice restaurant, you look like shit, sort it out."

"Wonder how much wine the three of us will get through tonight?"
"Two."
"You drove! Shit. I guess that's just the two of us then."
"Honestly? That probably means we'll drink more."
"Heheh. Bring it on."

"Could we order some wine please?"
"Certainly, I'll get the wine list."
"No, don't worry, just get us a bottle of your cheapest Rose."
".... now THAT was classy."

"Wow, I look retarded!"
What exactly the fuck did you expect when you uttered the words "here, take a picture of me with the 'reserved' sign on my head!"?

Curry issues.

Right. If I had wanted those little leaves in my curry, I would have picked some leaves off of a fucking tree and put them in my curry.

But what really pisses me off about these leaves is, they make it smell, and taste, like perfume.

I have plenty of perfume! If I wanted my food to taste of it for whatever reason, I would just have sprayed perfume on it!

Gah.

Mullets...

Business in the front, party in the back!

This quote makes the idea of a mullet quite tempting... just so I can get to say it, all the time. You know I would.

Well, actually, Dave will tell you how difficult it is to get me to cut my hair into anything even resembling a style - even a nice one - so maybe I wouldn't.

Ok stop worrying, I was joking, I'm not getting a mullet.

Sheesh.


"All I've had today... before this obviously... is some pasta."
"Wow. Why?"
"I don't know. I could have done without it though."
"Why?"
"Because then I would just have had wine and chocolate all day, and that would be pretty much brilliant, I think."

Dear Marks & Spencers...

I would just like to say, I have eaten your food. On a number of occasions. It was quite nice; I found no fault with it.
But I would like to point out one small thing.

IT REALLY IS, SERIOUSLY, JUST FOOD.

Terribly sorry to disappoint, but I have run some tests, and your 'not-just-food':

- does not give me telekinesis (which is superior to invisibility.)
- does not give me invisibility.
- does not, in fact, bestow upon me any superpowers, WHATSOEVER.
- does not increase my IQ.
- does not increase, or decrease, the size of any part of my anatomy.
- does not cause me to talk in a slutty voice like the woman who does your snobby, retarded voiceover. ("These are not just carrots... this is not just a cucumber..." Yeah, I fucking bet.)
- does not (disappointingly) cause spontaneous orgasm upon consumption.

In conclusion:

Food is not something that can be 'more than' what it is. (Apart from maybe that carrot that I carved into a tiki statue over a year ago which still lives, wrapped in clingfilm and cryogenically frozen, in my parents' freezer.) Food is something that you put in you, so you don't die. Please stop trying to 'sex it up', and accept that everybody, and I do mean everybody, is laughing at you, and shunning your expensive overblown wares in favour of Tescos own brand, which they pretty much pay you to eat in comparison. Even I, greatest Wogan-hater of all time, would rather eat food promoted by that posh-voiced fop-haired twat, than food promoted by your over-sexed Nigella wannabe voiceover bitch.

Thank you for your time.