There was a bear called Giles
Whose care he shared for miles
But he had a drink
And got bored me thinks
With us and our silly smiles
Thursday, 11 March 2010
In Loving Memory of Giles
There was a bear called Giles
Whose care he shared for miles
But he had a drink
And got bored me thinks
With us and our silly smiles
Monday, 8 March 2010
It's all the little moments
Mia: Well, goodnight- was really lovely to meet you, and good luck for tomorrow
Grant: Cool, Yeah you too, 'infamous', not 'elusive', Mia
Mia kisses Grant goodnight on one cheek, to which Grant grabs her arm back and kisses Mia on the other cheek.
Grant: Its two kisses. We do two kisses, we're Spanish.
Mia: I didn't think Will was Spanish?
Grant: Well, no, actually he's not Spanish at all
Mia: Oh okay
Grant: I meant me
Mia: Oh cool, so it was the royal 'We'? We Spanish
Grant: Yeah...well except that I'm not Spanish either
Mia: Oh okay
Grant: Yeah I'm Greek
Grant: Cool, Yeah you too, 'infamous', not 'elusive', Mia
Mia kisses Grant goodnight on one cheek, to which Grant grabs her arm back and kisses Mia on the other cheek.
Grant: Its two kisses. We do two kisses, we're Spanish.
Mia: I didn't think Will was Spanish?
Grant: Well, no, actually he's not Spanish at all
Mia: Oh okay
Grant: I meant me
Mia: Oh cool, so it was the royal 'We'? We Spanish
Grant: Yeah...well except that I'm not Spanish either
Mia: Oh okay
Grant: Yeah I'm Greek
Brrrr
Your feet poking off the ends
Because you are so very, very tall
The little bed no problem for me
Because I am so very, very small
And I worried that you were cold
With your ice cubed pinkies and toes
So I held you close to keep you warm
And kissed you on the popsicle nose.
Because you are so very, very tall
The little bed no problem for me
Because I am so very, very small
And I worried that you were cold
With your ice cubed pinkies and toes
So I held you close to keep you warm
And kissed you on the popsicle nose.
Wednesday, 3 March 2010
Kate and Daniel
Daniel: What the hell are we going to do?
Kate: Nothing. We don't have to do anything...You know we used to joke about becoming smackheads because all you'd have on your list each day would be...
Daniel: 'Get smacked'
Kate: Yeah
Daniel: No worrying about how well you are doing, how you look, whether you smell of shit...
Kate: Yeah
Daniel: So you're going to become a smackhead?
Kate: No...When I go back, I'm giving it all up.
Daniel: You what?
Kate: All the striving for some big thing. Having to prove myself. Waiting for some future time when I'm going to be happy. Tomorrow, next week, next year. This is it.
Daniel: Oh God, I know.
Kate: This is it and this is alright. Me and you here could be alright. It's alright. This is it. This is it.
Kate: Nothing. We don't have to do anything...You know we used to joke about becoming smackheads because all you'd have on your list each day would be...
Daniel: 'Get smacked'
Kate: Yeah
Daniel: No worrying about how well you are doing, how you look, whether you smell of shit...
Kate: Yeah
Daniel: So you're going to become a smackhead?
Kate: No...When I go back, I'm giving it all up.
Daniel: You what?
Kate: All the striving for some big thing. Having to prove myself. Waiting for some future time when I'm going to be happy. Tomorrow, next week, next year. This is it.
Daniel: Oh God, I know.
Kate: This is it and this is alright. Me and you here could be alright. It's alright. This is it. This is it.
Monday, 1 March 2010
Who doesn't love a kebab?
So thinking about nightbusses has also got me thinking about kebabs. The two kinda go hand in hand I guess.
Step 1: Find bar
Step 2: Get wasted, spend too much money, drunk dancing with your air sax
Step 3: Decide to leave cos you might puke
Step 4: Find food, the obligatory Kebab of course
Step 5: Find your bus stop, or at least try.
No matter how drunk or tired or close to the end you are, you must find a kebab. It is Step 4 after all. And the hilarious thing about it is that once having found a vendor- everyone in the mob becomes fussy and it takes about ten years to order. Can I have it with houmous, and chilli sauce and garlic sauce, but not too much lettuce and definately no cucumber. Oh and can I have one of those Japeniao, Halepeeeeno, Jalep-o things, or just make it three- I think I might like them this time. Yeehah! I think the greatest moment recently was when Eddie and I had been out in Camden on a bender and having bolted out of the place we went on a trek to find food. After what seemed like an eternity plodding around the cobbles, in my heels may I add- oh the pain, we found our oasis. Starving hungry is not the best time to get picky. Ed strolls right up to the counter and bellows to the poor girl "WHATS THE PARSLEY SITUATION HERE?". Poor girl looks puzzled. "I SAID, WHATS THE PARSLEY SITUATION HERE?". Man boss comes over to see if everything is alright. "Is everything alright mate?". "YES, I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE PARSLEY SITUATION IS HERE? I CANT BE DEALING WITH PARSLEY". "Well theres parsley in the salad and a bit on the houmous". "OKAY GREAT. CAN I HAVE A LAMB SHISH WITH NO HOUMOUS AND NO SALAD AND LOADS OF CHILLI SAUCE. IS THERE PARSLEY IN THE CHILLI SAUCE?".
And there was the time when on one of my first dates with Eddie, years ago, we went out to this classy number called The Weybridge in Alton. You know the kind of place with sticky floors and strange cross-eyed people and loos that stink of a cocktail of piss and puke- the kind that you can smell from the bar every time someone opens the door. Well we went there, and when we were finished we strolled on over to the local romantic hotspot to order some food before heading home. Ed got his fill of grease, whilst I opted for the falafal. "No falafal luv sorry". "Okay just that tasty plastic cheese and a bit of salad or something then". "We've got houmous?" "Okay houmous". So opening up our brown paper wrapped packages outside on the street I found a soggy piece of pitta bread and a bucket load of houmous. I didnt realise I would have to mention that I would like salad with it again. But I was hungry so I devoured. And this was no ordinary houmous. No this was the runny sauce stuff that seeps out and drips everywhere and before you know it you have houmous running down your chin dripping in huge puddles down your coat smothered all over your hands and splattered in the ends of your hair. And once the pitta bread had absorbed its fill of the lake of houmous, had become one with the houmous, there was nothing left to do but rest the thing somewhere so you could really get involved. I opened the package fully up ontop of a bin and tried to munch on whatever was left. Ed at this point exclaimed that I was a "skanky little bitch" and I think we knew we had found love from that point on. Classy indeed.
Step 1: Find bar
Step 2: Get wasted, spend too much money, drunk dancing with your air sax
Step 3: Decide to leave cos you might puke
Step 4: Find food, the obligatory Kebab of course
Step 5: Find your bus stop, or at least try.
No matter how drunk or tired or close to the end you are, you must find a kebab. It is Step 4 after all. And the hilarious thing about it is that once having found a vendor- everyone in the mob becomes fussy and it takes about ten years to order. Can I have it with houmous, and chilli sauce and garlic sauce, but not too much lettuce and definately no cucumber. Oh and can I have one of those Japeniao, Halepeeeeno, Jalep-o things, or just make it three- I think I might like them this time. Yeehah! I think the greatest moment recently was when Eddie and I had been out in Camden on a bender and having bolted out of the place we went on a trek to find food. After what seemed like an eternity plodding around the cobbles, in my heels may I add- oh the pain, we found our oasis. Starving hungry is not the best time to get picky. Ed strolls right up to the counter and bellows to the poor girl "WHATS THE PARSLEY SITUATION HERE?". Poor girl looks puzzled. "I SAID, WHATS THE PARSLEY SITUATION HERE?". Man boss comes over to see if everything is alright. "Is everything alright mate?". "YES, I JUST NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE PARSLEY SITUATION IS HERE? I CANT BE DEALING WITH PARSLEY". "Well theres parsley in the salad and a bit on the houmous". "OKAY GREAT. CAN I HAVE A LAMB SHISH WITH NO HOUMOUS AND NO SALAD AND LOADS OF CHILLI SAUCE. IS THERE PARSLEY IN THE CHILLI SAUCE?".
And there was the time when on one of my first dates with Eddie, years ago, we went out to this classy number called The Weybridge in Alton. You know the kind of place with sticky floors and strange cross-eyed people and loos that stink of a cocktail of piss and puke- the kind that you can smell from the bar every time someone opens the door. Well we went there, and when we were finished we strolled on over to the local romantic hotspot to order some food before heading home. Ed got his fill of grease, whilst I opted for the falafal. "No falafal luv sorry". "Okay just that tasty plastic cheese and a bit of salad or something then". "We've got houmous?" "Okay houmous". So opening up our brown paper wrapped packages outside on the street I found a soggy piece of pitta bread and a bucket load of houmous. I didnt realise I would have to mention that I would like salad with it again. But I was hungry so I devoured. And this was no ordinary houmous. No this was the runny sauce stuff that seeps out and drips everywhere and before you know it you have houmous running down your chin dripping in huge puddles down your coat smothered all over your hands and splattered in the ends of your hair. And once the pitta bread had absorbed its fill of the lake of houmous, had become one with the houmous, there was nothing left to do but rest the thing somewhere so you could really get involved. I opened the package fully up ontop of a bin and tried to munch on whatever was left. Ed at this point exclaimed that I was a "skanky little bitch" and I think we knew we had found love from that point on. Classy indeed.
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