Blasphemer

Oh my word! There was a woman in the coffee shop the other day seriously trying to chat up the barista while he was making coffee. Ew! That is like trying to chat up a priest during Mass. I mean, at least wait until he’s got his vestments off at the cup-of-tea afterwards.

Pride

I have never been prouder of my sphincter than I was yesterday.

Some words, by means of explanation: “migraine”, “nausea”, “diarrhea”, “explosive”, “fifteen”, “minute”, “bus-ride”, “home”. Yes, indeed, many of those should never be found in such close proximity. And I pray I never have to use them as such again. But I made it home and even had time to kiss the cat* on my way to the bathroom.

*Must research relationship between cat-kissing and explosive diarrhea.

Egghead

I love Jesus so much. Or really I love creme eggs so much, but I think he invented them? He was like totally a cross between Willy Wonka and a chicken farmer, or something.

Long Hair Lady

Ack. One of those ghastly women with long long hair sat in front of me on the bus this morning. I had to huddle in my seat as far away from it as possible least it touch me.

And worse: the breeze coming in under the door was making it fly everywhere. Gag. Flyaway hair (and long long hair is always flyaway) flying away. It was so utterly frightful one nearly vomited.

Now if the Universe would just get on with sending out that long overdue memo:

To: All women with arse-length hair

Note: Ew! Are you serious? It’s not pretty or feminine or in any way your crowning glory. It’s. Just. Yucky. Cut it now before you give anyone else the squicks.

Oh Tom, My Tom!

Pardon me while I pluck my eyeballs out with barbeque tongs. Tom Coates–plasticbag Tom Coates–was in New Zealand, nay in Wellington and I totally missed it. Woe is me. I would have camped out on the front steps of the conference and let all the pretty people trample me on their way in if I had known!

Added: Ahhh! He’s so tweed! I downloaded and listened to the mp3 of his talk and so gorgeous! He’s all corduroy and elbow patches and a pipe!

Locating Myself

Lesson one in the “beginning to blog again” journey–don’t use a blog that is linked to the username you use on your 9 year old nephew’s blog. So, trying again.

Oh the Shame!

So to buy a Telecom wireless hotspot prepaid card, you can’t actually go to a Telecom shop. Instead you have to face the indignity of going into Starbucks. I still feel dirty. But hey, I’m online and there are no pervy old men queued up behind me waiting to get onto the library computers. I might get back into this blogging thing after all.