Men And Dogs

Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Snippets

"He's not my type," would have been the best thing to say...but rather, "He is too overemotional for me, he believes in the fact that everyone including the government is out to get him, he got drunk and pulled my face in towards his in order to snog me when I would much rather have relaxed and continued a conversation, and he then percieved my negative actions to be a personal indictment towards his character which perhaps it was, when in no way did he realise that I am slow in relationships and can hold my drink quite enough to give him a feigned or perhaps fully sensible 'attitude' which unfortunately he considered flirting...and in no way is telling him his mannerisms remind me of a long lost date, a onset for proposals of marriage. In other words, he would give me a permanent headache, and rather more tears in my eyes than if I was single. And then, of course he must have realised that my being there, was not the same reasons for his being there.

And of course I was rather displeased when he and I encountered a Christian American lady who seemed rather out of sorts mentally and told her in a bullish manner that believing in Jesus was counter to believing in the Easter Bunny. "

RE: The Spade

"The dog peed on your spade, kid...it was standing up in the dirt in line with the blue
spade, but the dog chose the red spade to piss on....oh, I thought Mum had put it there to
be evil.'

Now I had stood there in the back garden, thinking if I don't move these spades, kids are
going to be picking them up and getting piss all over their hands. I watch the spades but no
one else seems to have noticed what has just happened because tehy are logged on to various
seperate television channels throughout the house, so I stub out the cigarette that I
haven't even noticed I was smoking, realising I haven't savoured a single one of my 2nd
pack of the day, stub it out on the dark wooden patio, and turn back to throw it in the bin
at first checking that has fully unlit...there are charcoal marks on the white wall by the
kitchen door,from previous stubbing and a wide scattered ashtray across the kicked up muddy
lawn. The other day I actually went round gathering all the cigarette butts and throwing
them in the bin, which I had already promised to do for a mere 20 quid, but got nitpicked and
mudslung.