ITEM: I believe that I spend too much time on Facebook, and that the majority of people I have as friends on there are left leaning Americans.
I’ve reached this conclusion because, when I see a Yahoo news headline that reads ‘Fox attacks 4-week-old baby boy at London home’, my first thought is ‘WTF have Fox News done now?’.
ITEM: This morning I nipped round to the post office to send the usual smutty, cheap Valentine’s Day card to The Imaginary Girlfriend, and when I got back waiting for me was a parcel addressed in her handwriting and with ‘Do Not Open Until 14 February’ written on it. Feeling it up, I’m guessing lots of chocolate treats.
I now feel like a complete jerk, but I expect I’ll get over it.
And chocolate helps
ITEM: Staying with the theme, I am mightily impressed with my willpower – five hours later and I still haven’t opened TIG’s parcel.
That might not seem impressive to some of you, but hey, there’s a reason I’m not eating pancakes on Shrove Tuesday, despite buying some only last Thursday.
The term ‘delayed gratification’ is not in my vocabulary. I can spell it, but I don’t quite grasp the meaning.
ITEM: Last night a friend and I were lamenting our lack of a love life. We are going through what Americans describe as ‘a dry spell’, albeit the rest of the world refers to it as ‘the 21st century’.
Referring to my last dalliance, I remarked that at the time I hadn’t realised it might be the last occasion on which I found myself in the company of a naked woman, and my friend, bless her little cotton socks, came back quick as a whip – ‘Don’t worry. You’ll have some more money some day.’
Some people really do laugh too much at their own jokes.
ITEM: As a reviewer, I am somewhat taken with those little tricks publishers pull to make their review copies stand out from the crowd, such as special book markers, black ribbon and complementary t-shirts.
However, when I have to explain to my postie that the parcel has been doused in red ink as a publicity stunt, and does not contain severed body parts the blood from which has seeped through the wrapping, then that’s really not helpful.
ITEM: Many years ago I had a colonoscopy, which is a procedure that involves medical staff sticking a fibre optic camera up your back passage and taking a look at your bowel. I found it quite fascinating at the time, particularly the image on the monitor which reminded me of nothing so much as a scene from Alien(s), one of the shots with those icky looking eggs, all shining with fluids of unknown origin and about to pop.
This morning, apropos of absolutely nothing, the idea came into my head that it would be a great wheeze to replace bowel shots with images from horror movies. The patient is lying there, one moment looking at the insides of his intestine on the screen, and the next staring at the female spelunkers from The Descent trying to climb up a narrow rock funnel.
I should probably seek psychiatric help.