shaky limbs
now that the clutch has kicked in and my brain is sort of working again... what the hell happened last night?
supposedly we weren't doing anything, but seemingly at some point just walked out for a quick beer and wham, this morning I woke up to a series of disconnected and bizarre images, a couple of notions that just could NOT be true in a sane world, and an incoherent blog entry I can't remember writing.
disconnected images, in no particular order of course:
I'm introduced to big birthday scotsman, who says I'm a genius and wants to lick my toes ouch, did we just bump heads? sexy drunk paki (aka Luxury Accessory) tries to stick tongue in my ear, I fling him over with a perfectly calculated judo movement, and make him land flat on his back in the middle of his own pub. ha! marianne disappeared with whom? you gotta be shittin me. a bottle of champagne turns up and everything from then on is seen through the thin fizz of bubbles. what am I doing talking to you? you're a bonehead. birthday scotsman licks champagne from my toes what am I doing dancing? I don't dance. did I really just ask this guy if there were more sheep than people in his hamlet in new zealand?
no, oh no, spandex no, and never with lace. no no NO no NO. the sight of you offends me BEGONE. did I just attempt to have a serious conversation with my neighbor? a drunk mexican and a drunk scotsman trying to have a serious conversation. then the guitars kick in. is it evil that I don't bother to correct stupid people who think I'm a foreigner because it amuses me to see them hang themselves with their rusty english? to be fair, I've never said or pretended I'm not a national; they just assume and I stick to nodding when they talk to me. even though I was cascaded in male flattery all night, I didn't feel that hot when the guy I'd been pondering the most seriously left with Spandex Slut. I really really don't want to sound like an abnormal insular freak, but would you mind stopping the efforts to shove your tongue down my throat? it's only a question of space. and oral hygiene; I don't even know half of these people. you're going home with whom? you gotta be shittin me.
1. sympathy for the devil -- the rolling stones
2. new york, new york -- frank sinatra
3. whiskey in a jar -- thin lizzy
supposedly we weren't doing anything, but seemingly at some point just walked out for a quick beer and wham, this morning I woke up to a series of disconnected and bizarre images, a couple of notions that just could NOT be true in a sane world, and an incoherent blog entry I can't remember writing.
disconnected images, in no particular order of course:
insanity:
1. sympathy for the devil -- the rolling stones
2. new york, new york -- frank sinatra
3. whiskey in a jar -- thin lizzy
posted by gaby san at
3/04/2006 11:05:00 AM
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