KingoftheWhale234 says: oooooooooooh - whhaaaxxxx -- oohhh iiiieeeyyhhhhh!
Syruplicker says: I couldn't agree more
KingoftheWhale234 says: it just had to be said
KingoftheWhale234 says: ever since we spoke last
KingoftheWhale234 says: it's been in the air
Syruplickersays: I'm glad you finally said it
KingoftheWhale234 says: well one of us would have to
Syruplicker says: something had to be done because the tension was just unbearable
KingoftheWhale234 says: i know, it felt like being rubbed between two dinosaurs on a treadmill
KingoftheWhale234 says: but with less perspiration
Syruplicker says: striking metaphore. it's exactly how I feel. and dinosaurs don't brush their teeth
Syruplicker says: something to think about
KingoftheWhale234 says: yeah... That's deep
KingoftheWhale234 says: I mean. You nailed it
Syruplicker says: philosophy is something I've always had a knack for, especially when it comes to dinosaurs
KingoftheWhale234 says: wow, yeah, you have a degree in it?
KingoftheWhale234 says: i know you can do master grade on dinosaur psychology, metaphores and business towels
KingoftheWhale234 says: with a sub-degree on philosophy
Syruplicker says: it came as a course in my Studies in Tension Reducing Conversations of Things that Need to be Said
Syruplicker says: I did consider the dino psychology but I didn't have the work cred
KingoftheWhale234 says: ahh, too bad. But seems like you've got the basics covered anyway, though
KingoftheWhale234 says: I'm impressed by the way, you really did TRCTNS?
Syruplicker says: but how far is a man going to get on the basics? I mean, a couple of small herbivores... maybe... but when it comes to the carnivores, they're gonna go for someone much more qualified
Syruplicker says: yeah I did TRCTNS but it was at SODP and not at SODAP so it's not the same
KingoftheWhale234 says: I heard you had to spend nineteen hours on a banana plane with a spatula up your downstairs mixer and listen to a staged conversation between amateur performing arts students...
KingoftheWhale234 says: aha, alright
KingoftheWhale234 says: what is the difference between those two, anyway? I never really got it...
Syruplicker says: I guess it really boils down to whether you put on your left sock first, or your right one. It's the entrance test, and I just couldn't get it right
KingoftheWhale234 says: naw, bollocks
KingoftheWhale234 says: i put my left sock on first
KingoftheWhale234 says: what's the correct answer?
Syruplicker says: it was a trick question. I should have known the kind of people that frequent TRCTNS generally wear sandals without socks - or have wooden legs
Syruplicker says: Looks like we're both more SODP kind of people. /snub SODAP
KingoftheWhale234 says: :(
KingoftheWhale234 says: well, maybe it just isn't meant to be
Syruplicker says: we mustn't strive to live outside our worldly boundaries... you and I, we were meant for other things. Far beyond the scope of tension reducing conversations
KingoftheWhale234 says: oh, I know!
KingoftheWhale234 says: yoghurt-wrestling
KingoftheWhale234says: chocolate-cheese fondue vodka body-shots
Syruplicker says: yes, yes! excellent! these things embody the true meaning of life!
KingoftheWhale234 says: of OUR life!
Syruplicker says: amen!
4
Stoke on Trent
Today I had a customer which was an elder gentleman. He was purchasing two Wedgwood Edme pasta plates and he was standing with them in his hand, looking a little lost. So, being the good saleswoman* I am: I asked him if he needed any help.He looked at me and said: "Well unless I wouldn't have to pay for these, I do".
I smiled and said: "I'm sure you could've run away with them without me noticing".
- "If you did notice, would you run after me?" he then asked.
I felt a little confused and replied: "No I probably would've called security".
- "What would I have had to take to make you run after me?".
And I was like, wtf, what kind of question is that? To make sure he didn't think he'd beaten me I said "You would've had to have taken my lunch".
He then made polite remarks about Edme, and asked me if I knew where it was made. And I took a wild shot at Stoke on Trent (which is a district in England, if you didn't already know this. That I already knew as the capital of British porcelain). And I was right, so he was impressed. He then disappeared, and I didn't understand anything.
* salesviking, salesgirl, salesperson, salesmander, salessamueljackson
by
Tora
Midas touch
I was born with a Midas touch,everything I touch becomes sticky.
Now, it is compulsive for me to have sticky fingers, I always do, - just somehow they end up in the bottom of the bowl of waffle batter, or underneath an icecream, or in a pocket full of sticky old sweets. it's not as if I am in control of what happens, they're suddenly just sticky!
Part guilty in this must be the fact that I am a little sister, and any decent younger sister with any self-respect has proper, fat and very sticky little fingers. In fact - it's all that's written in the work description, and is also the only requirement!
There are several "nice", or "remotely nice" little sisters, - but they all have sticky fingers! Still! They could be nice, but they would still be sticky, oh yes sir, oh yes you fuzzy little man-peach.
Well, my point; a wise man once said:
"I have a Midas Touch, everything I get near becomes shit".
And while this quite basically cover it, it is not entirely true - is it? I mean Gandalf, or Dumbledore, or Patrick Swayze, or whatever wise man might have said this, how can substances simply transform into excrements on mere contact with human skin?
I think that sounds rather ridiculous, it is like they have missed out on the entire point of the Midas Touch. Hello000Ooo! Gandalf! It is supposed to be a metaphor, not some kind of sick inside wizard-joke for you and Dumbledore to giggle at. Because even though you are exceptional wizards, it just doesn't make any sense that you would use your magic to transform random items into shit.... And - just out of curiosity - what kind of shit is it? Like, kangaroo, or---
No! No! My point is, Pat-rick Swayze: -- That the whole point of using a reference like this one, for King Midas is to show that you are sophisticated enough to be familiar with Greek Mythology. So the least thing one can do, is in combination with such a reference - is to show a little decency. I think anything more silly than sticky should be incompatible with Midas' touch. Because any word that is more wrong than the word I used isn't decent.
Everybody's abusing it.
Pff. Patrick Swayze. You silly silly boy.
Maid in Buttermilk III
Part I
Part II
It was a cool afternoon and that felt nice after such a warm and sunny day. They had moved into the parlour, which was bathing in the relaxing flickers of the ruby embers in the fireplace. The Lord of Buttermilk was smoking his pipe and was wearing his most comfortable slippers, every now and then he sneezed and threw a few random belongings in to the fire. His friend, Sir Jarvis Diggory Clarcy of Pea was sitting next to him and helping Giles sort out assorted items into two piles; one for keeping and one for burning.
Obviously it was both very very complicated and exhausting, there were so many items worth keeping, like treasure maps, biscuits, tree elephants, books, umbrellas, bent encyclopedias, stools, socks with feathers on them, light bulbs, sausages, panties, curtains, mouldy boxes with copper treasures and strange carved items from distant corners of the world. There were also seeds for unknown plants, sheets, tin tubes, small car models, photographs, tea warmers, markers, filt pens, rusted nails, some strange pumping mechanism, glass frames, old paintings and hand knitted mittens. In all this mess there was also a million other things, and resting on the bookshelf there was a heap of more scrap just waiting to have an avalanche and possibly put the end to them all.
The atmosphere was one of a concentrated tension, the exact kind which is created by the male ability to focus on one task with every cell in their immensed body. In the flickering light the only break of the quiet was the irregular "poofs" from the fireplace, and the fervent nostrils of the three, pulsating noisily like the lungs of a terrified rodent. Eyes remained rapt on the task at hand, sometimes with an overpowered critical stare, other times with a look of nostalgic recollection of something long gone.
It was obvious that the three devoted men were prepared for both nights and days of hard work throughout July to get the house cleared out for the arrival of Lady Plethora Clarcy of Pea.
Giles had married a plump german creature during the spring, a woman Lord Buttermilk named "The Thing" in his mind, but galantly called "Mrs. Giles" whenever Giles was around. She was small, pink and stumpy, with every attribute of a pig - but was made human through her rubber boots and the flowery outfits she wore. Most of the time she wore swimsuits, and unnecessary to say this was not the most flattering choice for a woman her shape and size. It was also quite strange to be walking around town in a swimsuit, even in Buttermilk.
This flowery and also revealing sense of style radically enhanced her nickname "The Thing" further. Either way, her real name was however not "The Thing" her real name was Gretchen Ödschönlind Haudenschild-Krähenbühl Niederbippftz, which was another name that Lord Buttermilk found to be extremely tongue-twisting. Giles called her "Gibbly-nibbly", something Lord Buttermilk thought was way easier to say, but unfortunately it was indecent for her husbands employer to call her by that. So her name in his house was "The Thi-Mrs. Giles" correcting himself midway almost every time.
The Thing made a wonderful cook, she could cook the wheels of bikes, or even tobacco and make it taste just like the sweetest chocolate pudding. Lord Buttermilk had every intention of hiring her, but he knew that she - like most germans, was a complete soup-nazi that would insist on having it sterile around her at all times. attributes his home had not had since he moved in, basically. So until they had cleaned out (at least the kitchen) this was an impossibility that bothered him at night.
Part II
It was a cool afternoon and that felt nice after such a warm and sunny day. They had moved into the parlour, which was bathing in the relaxing flickers of the ruby embers in the fireplace. The Lord of Buttermilk was smoking his pipe and was wearing his most comfortable slippers, every now and then he sneezed and threw a few random belongings in to the fire. His friend, Sir Jarvis Diggory Clarcy of Pea was sitting next to him and helping Giles sort out assorted items into two piles; one for keeping and one for burning.
Obviously it was both very very complicated and exhausting, there were so many items worth keeping, like treasure maps, biscuits, tree elephants, books, umbrellas, bent encyclopedias, stools, socks with feathers on them, light bulbs, sausages, panties, curtains, mouldy boxes with copper treasures and strange carved items from distant corners of the world. There were also seeds for unknown plants, sheets, tin tubes, small car models, photographs, tea warmers, markers, filt pens, rusted nails, some strange pumping mechanism, glass frames, old paintings and hand knitted mittens. In all this mess there was also a million other things, and resting on the bookshelf there was a heap of more scrap just waiting to have an avalanche and possibly put the end to them all.
The atmosphere was one of a concentrated tension, the exact kind which is created by the male ability to focus on one task with every cell in their immensed body. In the flickering light the only break of the quiet was the irregular "poofs" from the fireplace, and the fervent nostrils of the three, pulsating noisily like the lungs of a terrified rodent. Eyes remained rapt on the task at hand, sometimes with an overpowered critical stare, other times with a look of nostalgic recollection of something long gone.
It was obvious that the three devoted men were prepared for both nights and days of hard work throughout July to get the house cleared out for the arrival of Lady Plethora Clarcy of Pea.
Giles had married a plump german creature during the spring, a woman Lord Buttermilk named "The Thing" in his mind, but galantly called "Mrs. Giles" whenever Giles was around. She was small, pink and stumpy, with every attribute of a pig - but was made human through her rubber boots and the flowery outfits she wore. Most of the time she wore swimsuits, and unnecessary to say this was not the most flattering choice for a woman her shape and size. It was also quite strange to be walking around town in a swimsuit, even in Buttermilk.
This flowery and also revealing sense of style radically enhanced her nickname "The Thing" further. Either way, her real name was however not "The Thing" her real name was Gretchen Ödschönlind Haudenschild-Krähenbühl Niederbippftz, which was another name that Lord Buttermilk found to be extremely tongue-twisting. Giles called her "Gibbly-nibbly", something Lord Buttermilk thought was way easier to say, but unfortunately it was indecent for her husbands employer to call her by that. So her name in his house was "The Thi-Mrs. Giles" correcting himself midway almost every time.
The Thing made a wonderful cook, she could cook the wheels of bikes, or even tobacco and make it taste just like the sweetest chocolate pudding. Lord Buttermilk had every intention of hiring her, but he knew that she - like most germans, was a complete soup-nazi that would insist on having it sterile around her at all times. attributes his home had not had since he moved in, basically. So until they had cleaned out (at least the kitchen) this was an impossibility that bothered him at night.
by
Tora
Silent Sigh - Badly Drawn Boy
This is one of those music videos I have been thinking back on with horror. It's got 14 out of 9 on the sadness scale, and any female closely related to me is highly advised to keep clear of the visuals. Horribly sad stuff, but the song is very sweet. And anyone who likes equals of Keane is likely to love it. I know it's old, but it has to be in my blog. Right?
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