What I’ve realised lately:
1. I really ought to start carrying around a jar of peanut butter in my handbag. Y’know, as a security blanket. For the inexplicable sad moments in life. I think this could work. And many short disjointed sentences that make no sense on their own. Yes.
2. My tastebuds aren’t the only part of me that love granola. Apparently, my cleavage does too. In other words: I would like said cleavage to please stop applying its gravitational pull to the granola on my spoon. Body, I promise you, the granola works best when it makes it to my mouth, not my bra.
3. Actually, while we’re on the subject of items ending up in places they probably shouldn’t, I found toothpaste on my nose tonight. At least it smelled minty-fresh.
4. I don’t really dislike The Marking Of Essays, but I do dislike how The Marking Of Essays seems never-ending. It’s as if these essays have taken a leaf out of the Tim Tam book, in terms of being that which never runs out. (I just spent far too long reliving old Tim Tam ads on youtube.) I wish the essays were a little more like Tim Tams in other ways, though. Wouldn’t mind as much if they were coated in chocolate with a sweet cocoa-based cream inside.
5. Any free chocolate is good chocolate, particularly if it means I get to write fun not-necessarily-laudatory chocolate reviews. Translation: here’s a glimpse of the $50 of chocolate I recently won via a blog competition.
*rubs hands together in a paroxysm of glee*
Anyone interested in a Cadbury review post written entirely in haiku, limerick, or rhyming couplet form? Let me know in the comments, and I just might deliver!
6. One of my favourite parts of the week is having lunch with the lecturer and other tutors for the course I teach in. Yesterday, we were laughing so hard that the lecturer made some sort of strange honking noise, and then had tears in his eyes. Sure, a large part of that revolved around laughing at me rather than with me, but another part was related to Monty Python, so it wasn’t all bad. And, really, it’s probably clear by now that I don’t mind amusing people at my own expense. (See points 2 and 3 above).
7. Is there a greater feeling that engaging in banter with your brother about which of you would make the better hooker? I think not.
8. Actually, there might be. I was Facebook-messaging with another friend last night (an Australian whom I met in Washington, DC) and he said something to me which just might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. To wit:
“98% of the time I’ve seen you in person, you’ve had a plastic bag wrapped around your foot. What part of that is not a fiery ball of pure wild dripping sexuality?”
(For those of you new to this blog, I’ve been embroiled in an 18-month-long-still-going-strong Toe Saga. This led to me traipsing around America and Europe for four months in the dead of winter wearing socks, Birkenstocks and, at the first hint of rain or snow, a plastic bag on my left foot. I always thought this made me look like a right royal unfashionable nincompoop… (Oh, and this Toe Saga also saw me end up in a hospital in Paris, but I’d much prefer to remember other things about the City of Lights. Like macarons.)
Here endeth today’s assortment of random thoughts and eats.
Question Time: Has anyone said something to you lately that was either a) an unambiguous compliment, or b) actually a complete joke, but made you laugh and feel better about yourself anyway? (No prizes for guessing which of these categories the above quote falls into.)