"And the trivial matter of Thomas B. A. Shearne was shelved."

Far be it from me to ignore the potential of any meme that forces discussion on the wondrous subject of me...

If you read this, even if I don't speak to you often, post a memory of me.
It can be anything you want, it can be good or bad, just so long as it happened.

"It’s the worst plan since Hitler’s dad said to Hitler’s mum, ‘Let’s go upstairs, Brunhilda..."

♥ I have been a-shopping and purchased the following: one pair of jeans with red insides (cool) and red twiddly bits on the pockets (damned annoying); one green t-shirt (yep, like I'm going to have a shortage of those any time soon); one black and white striped belt; No 7 foundation; lip gloss. The jeans are very nice, albeit very long (inevitably).

♥ This led me to some contemplation of my figure, which I rarely do, because tbh I can't bring myself to care that much. Obviously I'd like to be slimmer, but I don't want it enough to, say, actually do anything about it. But I still get rather shamed, sometimes, which is quite stupid really, because who the fuck cares? But yes, I was inspecting the new jeans/t-shirt combo in the mirror, and feeling rather pleased that overall the outfit tended to work well with my one, if not positive, then least negative part, viz proportionally speaking not being over-endowed on the hip front. And then I felt like I didn't have the right particularly to find this pleasing, given that I am vastly overweight everywhere else. Ee, it's a tricky business this. Brains in jars. We'd all be much happier, is all I'm saying here...

♥ Need to make dinner. Pah. Means wrestling with the microwave to defrost mince. I hate defrosting stuff in the microwave. I FEAR the microwave. *looks around cautiously* Pretend //

// That is as far into this post as the autodraft thing saved. My entire post, including the part where I congratulated Marjorie on having downloaded, to date, 96% of season 3 of NCIS, was eaten. Pah.//

At Fat Sam's Grand Slam Speakeasy...

Gosh, you lot *are* lucky. Due to non-functioning wireless, you get my stream-of-consciousness whilst preparing a meal...


I was going to post, once again extolling the wonders of wireless, only to find that, once again, I had lost my connection. Helas. I suspect a pattern.

I am in the kitchen, cooking spag bol (yes, I make this practically every other day…), and making garlic-bread-out-of-M&S-ciabatta, listening to Bugsy Malone, and wearing my stripey apron. God’s in his metaphorical heaven and all is well with my world.

Now, the question with which I am faced, as the kettle boils, is do we want actual spag, or linguine (actually, I’m vetoing that right off; I always cook it slightly too much), or fusilli, or fusilli bucati? What to choose? What pasta did Baby Jee have with his bol, that’s what we must ask ourselves.

My bol is all onion. Why have our recent Sainsbury’s onions been so giant? Why, Englebert?

God, I love having a gas hob again. I can’t think how I managed with those damned electric jobbies.

Executive decision: spag it is. Why improve on the perfect?

Have grated small cheese mountain, to satisfy Katie’s endless lust for cheese. Why do my friends have such a cheese fetish? And, obviously, by ‘my friends’, I do mean Katie and Kathye and nobody else. Unless other people have cheese fetishes about which I remain in ignorance. Answers on a postcard, folks…

Once again, have made dinner (well, almost), and am not particularly hungry. Note to self: on coming home, do not lie on bed, faff on internet, and eat fag end of a bag of peanut M&Ms.

Actually, on looking at cheese mountain, is actually more of a cheese hillock. Will go and grate more.

Done. Cheese hillock expanded to mountain proportions.

It is very warm in the kitchen. I cannot reach the windows. My life sucks.

Appear to have lost bay leaf in bol. Am about to launch exploratory expedition.

Fuck! Bread ready! Bol ready! Spag boiling! Not ready! Nothing ready! WHY AM I WRITING STUPID LJ POST. FOCUS, GIRL, FOCUS!

Katie has arrived. All is well. Currently foiled by sink mank. Curses.

Sitting down. All is well.

And breathe.

Phew

Expeditionary force unnecessary; Katie has found the bay leaf in her tea.

Cheese is a kind of meat, as any fule kno...

I have calcium fear. Although my cheese intake is only moderate, I drink vast quantities of milk. Maybe one day I too, like Tommy, will end up with a giant cheese head.

You think it's impossible, but is it really impossible?