Whiskers on weird cats.

I had a thing to say.

But I have forgotten it.

As is often my wont.

(The process of signing into Blogger can do that to a small girl's brain.)

(Particularly when being closely watched by a weird cat. In a fashion that makes me suspect that later she will be a) filing a report on it or b) logging into Blogger herself for her own catty purposes.)

THERE WAS AN EARTHQUAKE!

Do not panic, it is now over.

Being in Brighton, I felt it not at all. However, my mother reported that the sides of her gate-leg table flapped against the legs, my sister's friend's cosmetics fell off her dressing table, and hub woke up in an overly purple, lonely hotel in Nottingham and thought "Oh for goodness sake, I am trying to get some sleep."

Heady stuff.

Now while I, as I have very recently mentioned, did not sense even a whisper of a tremor, both the weird cat and the seagulls it seems, did. And they all went mad at stupid-o'clock-whenever-it-was.

And that was rather confusing.

And resulted in the weird cat having two breakfasts.

Maybe she was observing me so keenly so that later she could log in to Earthquake Checker.

(I think I have cracked it.)

The long dark night of the soul

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwww.

It hurts.

Willy's pants.

Having spent a little while over at the ever-ready Non-WorkingMonkey's place, a small wonderance has been provoked in my little mind.

My mother often said:

"This won't get the pants on Willy"

As an expression of "we really should get on with Important and Productive Stuff.

I do not know from whence it came.

Do you?

Motherf***in' P.I.M.P.

That's me.

So. Here are two marvellous things! On a Monday no less!

It is extraordinary.

Love them!

Love them both!

(That is an order.)

For this cleverness, go here...




And for this cleverness, go here...





PS. Do not think I am "street". "Street" people do not carefully count the asterisks they use to make rude words safe. In a "1...2...3..." fashion. I assume.

An Important Question

At what time of day is it alright to eat the rest of last night's takeaway?

If one has had breakfast?

Also, and secondly, what are you feelings on the drinking of port?

ALSO!

I have been tagged by a dog!

It is exciting.

So a very special Six Random Things About Me Meme (which I like because it looks like you are really self-obsessed at the end of the sentence.)

Ahem.

1). I have started reading Don Quixote four times and have never finished. Or even got past page 30. Ish.

2). I am strangely and a little freakily good at a game called Set which is a card game in which one must spot visual patterns. I am so good at it that hub told me he no longer fancied me.

3). I pronounce "tooth" "tuth".

4). My eyes change colour depending on external factors like light and stuff.

5). I have never seen One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. For I am a big scaredy pants.

6). I do not like parsnips. At all. Not even a bit. Yesterday one snuck into my pie and I spat it out onto my plate even though I am a lady.

Woo woo woo!

Memememememememememe!

Now I must tag people. Like all good taggy games. I am on. And I must pass it on. So:

Angie, John, Meesha, Cheerful, Anx and Katy.

Ow.

I am grateful for all your views on Fruit Which Does/Doesn't Go With Tea. You are kind and thoughtful readers.

If I were to ask you what does go with tea really well, what would you say?

(I would say my mouth. Not that I eat my mouth while I drink tea. Just that tea goes well inside my mouth. Wellest of all I think. Also, chelsea buns.)

But my point is that Orange Liveboxes are BOLLOCKS.

That is what I really was hoping to say.

I like to do my work while reclining on my settee, laptop on lap, as god intended. Every now and then I can check a thought, or an amusing idea which has occurred in my little mind by browsing on the interweb.

However.

My lovely beautiful free-with-my-job Macbook Pro and the BOLLOCKS Orange Livebox have fallen out of love. They had a honeymoon period of about three months (which is, I believe, the norm) and then they just stopped communicating. We managed quite a good intervention with the help of a lady in India and they patched things up for about a week or so. But since then, they talk only sporadically, and they fall out at the drop of a hat. The drop of a hat, I say!

It is tragic.

And it means that right now I am sitting on the floor, with my lovely beautiful free-with-my-job Macbook Pro balanced on a chair while simultaneously being plugged into the PC. The laptop that is, not me.

My knees hurt.