Who misses bullet-points?
*raises hand like a 6-year-old teacher's pet*
- Went to see the Man Whose Smile Melts My Cold Heart (commonly known as Dumas) over the weekend. Despite some technical mishaps, the concert was all in all fabulous. Sing-alongs, inconspicuous loops, crazy dancing sequence (oh! to the flutter of my beating heart!), acoustic rendition, rocking riffs – it was wonderful, man! And forget about pyrotechnics, spectacular sets and huge screens, it’s all about BALLOONS, people! Unleash some balloons from the ceiling during the second encore and it’s all to make my heart jump with yearning childhood glee! The loveliest surprise of the evening though was the opening gig in the svelte body of a local singer, whose honey musked voice warmed the back of my neck in the sweetest of ways. Alone with a guitar, a harmonica and some few finger clicks, he sang pretty pretty little folksy-pop songs with sorrowful humour that surely delighted the soppy little girl that I am. Oh yes. I want to have his babies.
Which is necessary to understand, you see, as it may or may not be one of the reasons I ended up buying his record right after the show. *blush* Unfortunately, I only realised the next day that the two songs I really loved were not on it and that he is indeed much better live. *pouts* That’ll teach me to spend money on cute boys. It’s still decent though. And after a few listen, it somehow makes me want to sit by a window sipping hot tea, and write….
- Light Bulb Moment of the Week: Lying to mum about having already bought her Mother Day’s gift but forgotten it in someone’s car when in actuality have forgotten it altogether is A Bad Idea. Especially when she is The Crazy Woman, loves gifts and insists that this ‘Someone’ drives by to give it back and, when you point out how unnecessary this is as you are going to meet this ‘Someone’ the next day anyway (lie #2), suggests on driving herself to ‘Someone’’s house to pick said un-existing gift.
I am going to be struck by lightening and burn in hell, etcetera, etcetera, but it still beats having to see the disappointment in her eyes. There is just so much this poor woman can take [in a very near future]. Besides, the way I figure, her being deceived and my incapability to look her in the eyes for the entire day balances one another out. *wiggles thumbs up*
- I have fallen in love with ice wine. Or as I like to call it Oh Sweet Nectar Of Gods. *drools & falls over herself*
- I have discovered that the sound of motor trucks can simulate bird speach. Or vice versa. As I laid in bed this morning in the sweet slumbers of five a.m. and was gently woken up by construction workers who, within some few 50 metres away from my bedroom window, were busy grilling, moving and shoving large things about, it dawned on me that I was probably onto something when gently tweeting pierced through my ears.
In the name of science, I shall transcribe here a part of the conversation for future references:
"Broom, vraaaaaaahh!"Is there someone out there to confirm and/or translate? If you are an ornithologist, zoologist, biologist, sound engineer and/or bird hunter, please leave your answers/rates in the comments below. Thank you.
"Tweet! Tweet! Tweet!"
"Brrrooom broom Brooooooooomm."
"Twee-twee Tweet! Tweet Twe-weet! Tweet!"
"TWEEEEEEEEEEEEET! tweIIIIIIIIIIIT! Twee..."
"Tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet-tweeet-tweeeeeeet-tweet-tweet-tweet-tweet-twee tweeet twe..."
"TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET TWEET!"
- What a lovely Spring day it was yesterday.
Which, of course, also meant Great Shopping Spring Day. As I busied through my carefully planned schedule, I stumbled upon a hardcover of David Sedaris’ Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim for a ridiculous 7.99$! Which, with my irewards rebay, came to a total of 7.62! Huzzah! With the book in tow and an extra beat in my steps, I then wandered towards Shop With Enviable Frocks, and just look what I’ve got my hands on now (aside some Fruit-Of-The-Loom undies):
I know. Please stop looking at me like that. I’ve been coveting this skirt for months, OKAY?! And just when I thought it wasn’t meant to be, there it was, hanging sheepishly on its little lonesome with a SIXTY DOLLARS LESS price tag! Zoing! As if that wasn’t enough proof that Fate was bringing the two of us together, it was in MY EXACT SIZE! Angels could have flown down and chanted for our holy union and it wouldn’t be so perfect! And I just look so puhr’dy in it, ma!... *puppy eyes*
- Question of the Week: What causes two seemingly full-functionning adults to make out in the middle of a café? In broad daylight? Where there are actual people around? Hm?! I’m aware that T’is the season to be horny, and while some superficial people take more joys in finding the perfect all-year-round skirt others prefer giving in to the throws of
hormoneslove, it still doesn’t explain why they have to - oh but literally - LICK EACH OTHER’S FACE OFF! RIGHT. IN. FRONT. OF. ME! And loud enough, in fact, that I can HEAR them when my ears are PLUGGED IN! Gah! Sure, I suppose a normal person would simply look away, but:
1) Where I am sitting, I’d risk developping cervicalgia if I were to turn to either side, and frankly (a) I'd look [even more] retarded should I position myself so awkwardly, and (b) why the hell should I discomfort myself for their sake anyway? Are we not in a public space after all? Mutual respect, consideration for thy neighbors, etc, etc. GET A ROOM, YOU!;…Which brings us to Subquestion of the Week: Is it terribly shallow of me to find unattractive people making out the best premarital-sex prevention method?
2) In some twisted way, it’s just morbidly fascinating, innit? Like watching a car crash, or a baby taking a fall (or is that just me? anyone?), your eyes can’t seem to escape such odd manifestation of the human body. (Lordy! Even as I type these words, I can see their tongues sipping out like ol’Nessy peeping for air from the corner of my eyes!) *shudders*
- Okay. What’s the deal here? That’s the second person to come up to me today and start a conversation out of the bloody blue. Is it because of the season? Is there a drug sale going on and everyone’s on crack? Do I somehow look like a nice sociable person?! [Note to self: reconsider goth look.] The strange part is I am actually engaging in the conversation. While my head screams for me to shut the fuck up and run away, my mouth keeps rattling on, jolly answering to their questions, attentively listening in, and (oh why, in the name of Sweet Frozen Grapes!?) pertinently raising side issues! Pah!... Further proof that there is an important link missing from my brain to my mouth.
- It is unfortunate for me to announce that Pollens have officially declared war on me and taken over my respiratory system. If I wish to have a winning chance against these nasty little buggers, drastic measures must be taken for the greater good. Will you please excuse me now as I go cut my nose, peel off my skin and poke my eyes out.
This, hopefully, might also discourage strangers from striking uncalled chit-chat with me.
As they say, two birds with one stone.
Sadly, only figuratively.