So it's the 14th again, eh? Goodness, seems like only last week I was doing my first ever post about St. Valentine's day. Last year Valentine's day began much too early for clear thought and still not early enough, for I seem to recall being late for my admission for surgery. Then came a hipoglicemia induced migraine, because I was told to skip breakfast for blood test (and later told that I needn't have, for as long as I had mentioned that I had eaten and wasn't diabetic). Later on the full fright of being less than a day away from my first ever surgery hit me and I spent the evening trying not to lose it entirely. Much ado about barely anything, really, but how could I know? Still, that was the worst Valentine's day ever with every other being a close second. Do I sound bitter to you? I suppose I am a little bitter...
You know, I really have nothing against St. Valentines or gay couples - let me rephrase that - merry couples, regardless of sexual preference, enjoying the occasion. So do you think there would be enough loving going around that I could have a small share (I'm not greedy) for myself? No such luck... And, for once, I did try. Still no luck.
Pax (et Venus) vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark would like to notify all whom it may concern that the Bachelors Club will be meeting at 22:00 and the Lonely Hearts will gather later. Their schedulles are free today.
I've the right to rant
And rant I shall... briefly.
First and foremost, a recurring topic, spam. I am now the (not very) proud recipient of spam in Arabic. On the down side, I can't read it. On the plus side, I don't think I'd like to, really, seeing as it is spam. Comes with the territory (and an e-mail address startig with "Arabian"). Spam (not the meat product) is, however, on of the matters of greatest laughter in my life. Just days ago I recieved one claiming that the best way to "impress the ladies is with great c0ck". I wasn't aware ladies were esaily impressed with poultry. Is this why they are also sometimes refered to as "chicks"? I'd like an expert opinion, please? As if any were to be found around here...
Today on the telly, while zapping, I caught a bit of an interview with a sexologist reporting, from a book on nymphomania, of a tale of how a nine year old girl was taken by her mother to a gynecologist on suspicion that she masturbated. The gynecologist would have reported somthing along the lines of "as soon as I struck the clitoris, the legs opened and the body contorted with moans of pleasure". The girl was "treated" with excision. I switched channels. On the next channel, Michaela Conlin says "monster". See, telly is educational, after all.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark would like to discurage minors from reading this partcular entry as it discusses adult themes and contains a deliberate and ineffective mispelling of a swear word. But, then again, if minors nowadays are anything like they were when I was a minor, this is hardly anything they haven't been exposed to yet, so knock yourselves out. Really, go on, knock yourselves out. At the very least, it'll amuse me.
First and foremost, a recurring topic, spam. I am now the (not very) proud recipient of spam in Arabic. On the down side, I can't read it. On the plus side, I don't think I'd like to, really, seeing as it is spam. Comes with the territory (and an e-mail address startig with "Arabian"). Spam (not the meat product) is, however, on of the matters of greatest laughter in my life. Just days ago I recieved one claiming that the best way to "impress the ladies is with great c0ck". I wasn't aware ladies were esaily impressed with poultry. Is this why they are also sometimes refered to as "chicks"? I'd like an expert opinion, please? As if any were to be found around here...
Today on the telly, while zapping, I caught a bit of an interview with a sexologist reporting, from a book on nymphomania, of a tale of how a nine year old girl was taken by her mother to a gynecologist on suspicion that she masturbated. The gynecologist would have reported somthing along the lines of "as soon as I struck the clitoris, the legs opened and the body contorted with moans of pleasure". The girl was "treated" with excision. I switched channels. On the next channel, Michaela Conlin says "monster". See, telly is educational, after all.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark would like to discurage minors from reading this partcular entry as it discusses adult themes and contains a deliberate and ineffective mispelling of a swear word. But, then again, if minors nowadays are anything like they were when I was a minor, this is hardly anything they haven't been exposed to yet, so knock yourselves out. Really, go on, knock yourselves out. At the very least, it'll amuse me.
Paper faces on parade!
A cookie to whoever can tell me which work the title of this entry is a line from. A second cookie will be awarded to he or she who can recite the sentence uttered before it in the same work.
So it's that time of the year again. There's no escaping it. McDonald's attendants are in costume. Supermarket tellers are dressed up in silly flashy rags you couldn't associate with a fantasy archetype if your life depended on it (I mean, I was assisted by a young wooman clad in red, with red see-through "flaps", for want of a better word, of fabric dangling from her sleeves and the hem of her dress and with her hair dyed shocking red. So what is she supposed to be, "Period Woman"?). Herds of young children from kindergartens will deambulate in double files, dressed in either their own costumes or readily provided (or rather, improvised) costumes of sorts, brandishing long stick of wood, which become makeshift magic wands, swords, canes, rifles and an all-round good idea, to provide young enfants with tools of scratching, bruising, cutting, poking and eye-gouging. Thumbs up, safety! Unless it's a clever plot to weed out the unrulier ones. Then even I'll condone with that.
Ah, well, here I am, sounding all bitter and sarcastic, when, after all, this is one of the few inescapable silly times I actually rather enjoy. Let's all shed our routinely worries and become our fantasies for a few hours. I'm all for that, really, for as long as it's harmless fun. Even tonight I was surprised to be passed by a fellow running in white hooded overalls, bearing the fearsome yellow and black "radioactivity" insignia on his right breast and a larger version on his back. Remember those t-shirts with the saying "I'm a bomb technician, if you see me running try to keep up" stamped on their back? It felt a bit like that... with the added factor of the tardiness of the hour (nigh on or past 3:00 AM).
Which brings me to a topic I'm really disgruntled about. I got myself in a bit of a mess, with my biological clock all messed up. I find myself unable to sleep at night, but come late morning or early afternoon, I'm out like a light until early evening. So perhaps I'm becoming a vampire, and not for Carnival only. That would be swell, wouldn't it? To shed morality and mortality alike and roam the night everlasting. It bothers me little that I can't sleep at propper hours, I'll shrug it off, somehow. What gets up my nose is some hellish little birds who'll pick whenever I'm trying to get my sleep in order to screech with their shrill chirps at bloody 4:00 AM. What the hell, it's 4:00 AM in the winter, the sun won't be up for hours and already you're chirping like your miserable existences of nary consequence depended on me not getting my timely sleep? Rejoice in that I can't find you or reach you unhelped, for I'd wring your single occipital condrilus necks in a heartbeat without a second thought. The pox on you as well. Now go bother the supermarket people. You'll find you have some in common after all.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark has had way too much of a not-very-popular so-called energy drink, the thought behind it being that, If I can stay awake for the night, as I have lately, and the whole day after it, then, come next night, I'll be far too exhausted not to sleep well. However, this energetic beverage seems to be wanting some juice...
So it's that time of the year again. There's no escaping it. McDonald's attendants are in costume. Supermarket tellers are dressed up in silly flashy rags you couldn't associate with a fantasy archetype if your life depended on it (I mean, I was assisted by a young wooman clad in red, with red see-through "flaps", for want of a better word, of fabric dangling from her sleeves and the hem of her dress and with her hair dyed shocking red. So what is she supposed to be, "Period Woman"?). Herds of young children from kindergartens will deambulate in double files, dressed in either their own costumes or readily provided (or rather, improvised) costumes of sorts, brandishing long stick of wood, which become makeshift magic wands, swords, canes, rifles and an all-round good idea, to provide young enfants with tools of scratching, bruising, cutting, poking and eye-gouging. Thumbs up, safety! Unless it's a clever plot to weed out the unrulier ones. Then even I'll condone with that.
Ah, well, here I am, sounding all bitter and sarcastic, when, after all, this is one of the few inescapable silly times I actually rather enjoy. Let's all shed our routinely worries and become our fantasies for a few hours. I'm all for that, really, for as long as it's harmless fun. Even tonight I was surprised to be passed by a fellow running in white hooded overalls, bearing the fearsome yellow and black "radioactivity" insignia on his right breast and a larger version on his back. Remember those t-shirts with the saying "I'm a bomb technician, if you see me running try to keep up" stamped on their back? It felt a bit like that... with the added factor of the tardiness of the hour (nigh on or past 3:00 AM).
Which brings me to a topic I'm really disgruntled about. I got myself in a bit of a mess, with my biological clock all messed up. I find myself unable to sleep at night, but come late morning or early afternoon, I'm out like a light until early evening. So perhaps I'm becoming a vampire, and not for Carnival only. That would be swell, wouldn't it? To shed morality and mortality alike and roam the night everlasting. It bothers me little that I can't sleep at propper hours, I'll shrug it off, somehow. What gets up my nose is some hellish little birds who'll pick whenever I'm trying to get my sleep in order to screech with their shrill chirps at bloody 4:00 AM. What the hell, it's 4:00 AM in the winter, the sun won't be up for hours and already you're chirping like your miserable existences of nary consequence depended on me not getting my timely sleep? Rejoice in that I can't find you or reach you unhelped, for I'd wring your single occipital condrilus necks in a heartbeat without a second thought. The pox on you as well. Now go bother the supermarket people. You'll find you have some in common after all.
Pax vobiscum atque vale.
ArabianShark has had way too much of a not-very-popular so-called energy drink, the thought behind it being that, If I can stay awake for the night, as I have lately, and the whole day after it, then, come next night, I'll be far too exhausted not to sleep well. However, this energetic beverage seems to be wanting some juice...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
