Out of the loop with pork pies. 

What’s happening in the world? I’m completely out of the loop, current affairs wise. (Not that I’m generally IN the loop current affairs wise, or even usually in the same dark matter filled space time continuum of current affairs, but i can smell a copy of celebrity gossip filled Heat magazine a mile away and the world needs a good mix of people with different emotional intelligences  and skills to make the world go round.  Fuck your money or indeed your love – they don’t make the world go round, although it certainly helps – especially I suppose if you’re poor AND single)) (I think that long winded aside required a double closed bracket and look I’ve opened another bloody bracket I need to close – here)

I’ve been in a weird world of bedside vigils, napping on faux leather couches, nightshifts and eating pork pies, which makes me feel slutty, but not entirely in a bad way if I’m being honest. I’m not being deliberately obtuse, so don’t go sending me “wotz up chick?” or “PM me hon” messages on the old Facebooks. (About the reason for the bedside vigils – not the pork pie eating) It’s just not stuff that’s blogworthy, and at time of tippytapping this pile of shit on my phone, is still very much ongoing and pretty awful.  

Facebook, which, incidentally is grinding my gears at the moment, although my gears are easily ground) has been a welcome distraction from the Horrible Thing that’s ongoing. That, and watching this cat with a printer video again and again:

http://youtu.be/SiHsfqmnkv0

 I’ve also been enjoying a good scroll through the various sales and wants pages on FB, which are always good for a laugh, and am constantly amazed at the cheek and impudence of some people : “I’m looking for a tumble dryer – must be in good working order”. No shit. Try the shops. They’ve that many tumble driers in Currys they’re selling them. 

In an interesting aside about pork pies – they make pork pie wedding cakes! Look! 



Pork pie wedding cakes! The strapline could be “Make sure your future wife’s  is the only soggy bottom on your wedding night with our Pork Pie wedding cake”. 

For someone who hates chatting on phone I’ve sure clocked up a few air miles on the old blower these past few weeks. I’ve spent so much time on the phone I’m worried that my left ear will evolve into a giganto-ear and I’ll never be able to wear my hair up again, and then where will I be?  Right up Queer Street, that’s where – and I’ve a wedding to appear mother of the bridey at in December, and I know I’ll want to be giganto-ear free and hair-uppy for that particular gig. Let’s all pray for a pork pie wedding cake! 

I’m up writing this nonsense at this hour because my circadian rhythms are all skew whiff as a result of the Horrible Thing. I’m also up because Tucker started making barf noises and I’d to hurry him outside. That was a fun thing at 5am. I’m glad he woke me, mind. I was having a stressful work related dream that made me wake up in a cold sweat and nobody needs that really do they? Especially while the Horrible Thing is ongoing. 

I’m also weirdly craving a fag at the back door, which is usually a nighttime guilty pleasure. My body clearly doesn’t know its arse from its elbow this week. 

Ps – I’ve said pork pie a lot in this post. Sorry. Pork pie is the new vagina, it seems! 

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