Soupy air, sweaty horses, rocks with teeth and weird Al

Friday was one of those days where the air has been like a savory broth, kind of thick, steamy and soupy. I hope that description suitably expressive the oppressive muggy heat atmosphere that accompanied a 31c heatwave. At work the aircon couldn’t cope and the humidity only seemed to rise during the day…all the bottles taken from the fridge immediately suited in a layer of sweaty condensation…liquid pooling at the windows to the 4c cold room…you get the picture…it wasn’t pretty. Yesterday wasn’t so much better but felt so much worse as our flat, being second floor, inconveniently accumulates the heat from the two flats beneath us, leaving it nowhere to go except snuggles up inbetween me, and a comfortable nights sleep. Thunderstorms don’t break the humidity…and the horses were not too impressed that they were taken out in this weather
Exhibit A


Hot horses awaiting a shower.

I have, as of the past couple of weeks, developed a sincere aversion to frequenting the dentist. Some ridiculous (allegedly rare) dental mistake cost me in money, time and pain. Three visits to fix the problem and yknow next time I’m offered anaesthetic there will be no sign of bravery…  Just sign me the hell up ok??
If that wasn’t bad enough the dentist must have injected the anaesthetic into a blood vessel on the third visit, as I got really shaky and sweaty and my heart was racing. I felt dizzy like I might pass out and so had to sit and be observed by a first aider until I felt better. Even then, when I got onto my bike I hopped off after about 20 metres because of lightheadedness, walked about a third of the way they finally got back on to continue! Bleugh. If that wasn’t traumatic enough then how about this?


Imgonna have nightmares about this.

In other news, I have been enjoying the spate of new weird Al videos…and showing them to people who also find them funny, or those who clearly don’t get it….hehe. What I did find was after a few listens of “word crimes” I saw slink to the following in the comments and felt the need to share.

Stephen Fry Kinetic Typography – Language:

I guess my attitude to grammar lies somewhere inbetween weird Al and Stephen Fry, and I’m OK with that.

What I woukd also like to share is the fact that this story

Is an amended version of a much funnier but almost entirely scientifically incorrect story stating that scientist (now furious ones I expect…) show that smelling stinky farts can cure cancer. I’ve got a cached version stashed away if anyone’s interested!!

thoughts I would have caught in a bubble, if only I had a wand.

Money isn’t everything, in fact it isn’t even that important at all once you have enough to survive on. You only live this life once.

There is no such thing as a happiness quota to be shared across the universe.

Life is not an emotional bank, whereby you can save up your happiness to spend later, or mortgage into future of sadness for a crazy day of bliss.

These things and more. I must try to remember.

I find myself instinctively responding to things in ways I didn’t think I would. No, not instinct. Something else. Something less primal and more educated…on so much as repetition swirls around so many times that I forget what was in my mind before. As the words spill out, a small furrow forms in my brow as I feel the juxtaposition of my phrases against my psyche. An almost imperceptible grating, like a sociopath who has graduated finishing school at the top of their class. 

We spent an evening with another couple, I suppose in a way you could say it was a double date…and when we met up, the other couple were sipping cocktails, hands in each others discussing what they had got up to last night at the pub. We were warmly greeted and I was immediately implored to try their cocktails…which were nice, but then we had to decide if WE wanted to buy extortionate cocktails too…indecision…..frustration,,,,,despondency…..we chose not to indulge. We entered the theatre and sat through the first half which was almost entirely not what we were expecting…a string quartet playing their own compositions, a few short stories by Neil Gaiman, read by Himself (clearly He is a god so gets a capital H ok?). In the second half the story was enthralling, the images and backing music complemented the prose perfectly and seamlessly, invoking an involving fairy tale set in scotland. I was lost in the story and for once, was not waiting for the end so that I could escape away from all these crowds of people back to where I could breathe, but I was tranquil and would not let the disinterested and bored expression on my partner’s face detract from the magic of the evening. SO couldn’t wait to say our goodbyes to the other couple, even though we’d barely had time to exchange any words…but as luck would have it, they were travelling back immediately, as were we and so we had the pleasure of their company for some time longer. SO told me that I owed him for making him suffer through the performance – i merely reminded him that he had every opportunity to NOT go and that I certainly did not force him. The train back was a little awkward because I was making conversation, SO was being shy and borderline grumpy…the other couple were being couply…you know the cute things couples do, touch hands, hands around waist / back, on shoulder, natural hugs, loving looks etc and we had none of that…just a cynical chill separating us I suppose.   The other couple were going to the pub afterwards for a drink and invited us along but SO was tired (isn’t he always…) so we declined, as usual. Call me crazy, but i think its kind of sad when a couple does not show any affection for each other in public…..and even sadder if there is precious little enough in private, and this is what set off the train of thought that triggered the bubbles of thoughts that popped onto this screen.