Friday, February 02, 2007


I saw two shooting stars last night. I wished on them but they were only satellites. And artificial ones, to boot.

I feel I should be on a quest, either to find a new England or a new Minge. A trip to the lakes is in order. It should help me make up my mind.

I've decided, dear reader, insanity aside, that I'm a bit weird. You'll imagine my delight, then, when I read this. I wanted to join in, and here we have it. Six thi
ngs other people might find a little odd about me:

I pick at my eyebrows. The left one is quite sparse at the moment. I started doing it, I think, when I was about six years old. Mum took me to the GP. He tol
d her that some children cry, some hide under their beds, some pinch other children, some bite themselves, some have tantrums, some vomit. I pick at my eyebrows. Weird, because I also used to cry a lot as well. But it took a lot to make me cry. I used to see children crying at the slightest thing and think they were idiots. It took a flying punch from my Father or to see my Mum knocked out on the lounge floor to make me cry.

So, that's number one. Number two...?

I often photograph my stools in the toilet. Sometimes I send them to pe
ople. The photographs, not the stools. I love it. It's great that we're able to flout convention with such aplomb these days.

Three: I sometimes talk to the dogs like they're human beings, furthermore, like they can understand me (for, indeed, dear reader, some humans cannot). I wonder what my dear daughters might say to me if they could speak. I think their most common response would be, "Never mind."

My refusal to answer the telephone is number four. You might catch me, dear reader, if you call me at a time when I'm expecting a call I'd normally take. I don't like surprises and I don't like coping with situations I can't get out of like engaging in conversations on the telephone that make me uncomfortable. Usually, the conversations are with people I like and we cover topics I generally ap
prove of. So I don't really know what I'm worried about, but worry I do and answer the telephone, I don't.

I find the topic of masturbation quite upsetting. Sometimes I have inappropriate thoughts. When I'm stood talking with someone, I'll suddenly think you've been masturbating and I'll admit that sometimes these thoughts are pictorial. I shan't be watching wank week. Five.

My sixth and final odd fact: I used to encourage my niece, when six years old, to tell stories of murder and witchcraft and to draw pictures of beheadings. I thought it might make her arty. She's turned out a lesbian. Do you think the two are related, dear reader?

Take it easy, take a sisi.


Minge said...

This is something of a tagging exercise. In reading this comment, love, consider yourself tagged.

Brian said...

Please, sweet Jesus, never let me be on the receiving end of #2....literally.

Minge said...

Fret not, Brian! I know how you feel about those funky brown nuggets! I've ofen considered uploading a poo-pic but, with you in mind, have held back.

Moncrief Speaks said...

All fabulous on an international scale, hen!

Minge said...


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