Sunday, April 4
12:50 am

get down with your bad self

so, okay, like, some people? have like, told me to be less mean, and like, cheer up a bit? so after i like, totally raged at them and got over the hating myself, i decided, hey pet! they're right! you like, totally need to find the fun.

so like, instead of like, talking about the things that like, totally cheese me off? i'm going to talk about nails! 'cos like, mine? are so totally awesome! they're like, black, with pink and white polka dots on them? i mean, trendsetting much?

my brain aches, so that's enough of that. but just so you know, my nails really are black, with pink and white polka dots. and they are damn hell awesome.

ns needs to stop hassling me to umpire their Games of Evil Death. process it already: what you pay is not enough to make up for the inevitable hatred that will be directed my way if i agree to umpire for, say, nsl. you'd think umpiring a netball game would be less bile inducing than refereeing any rugby match. so not true. the rugby pitch is simply too big to hear or see the players (not the best promotion of my refereeing skills, i'm aware), and the coaches and idiot spectators sound and look like the tiny, insignificant, screechy specks they are. not so for netball! sometimes, coaches and idiot spectators stand inches behind you and feel that they should be umpiring instead. because, you know, those umpires only have two eyes and penalize our players for infringements we've never heard of, the incompetent fools.

i need a device that blares out appropriate phrases at offending parties. like FUCK OFF and GET A LIFE and GO FOR AN UMPIRING COURSE ALREADY. and as long as i'm dreaming, this device should also have a tracker that would trace offending parties from their blogs and smack them alongside their heads.

speaking of rugby, the highlight of my sad, sad week was procuring a new rugby ball. in the melee that was rugby zone finals (primary), no one noticed a small girl making off with her new pal gilbert. oh, the sru is a stingy sumbitch so stop looking at me like that.

and i know i've said this before, but cab drivers have a special hell set aside for them. one where the roads are lined with senior citizens driving at 10 below the speed limit, and every bend is littered with lawsuit-happy lawyers in big, expensive cars.

paul theroux is the guy i'm going to bed with tonight, and you seriously have to wonder why it isn't mill or hart or some other old man that will help in my monthly ohshitohshitit'sdueintenminutesandican'tgetacab ritual tomorrow.

No Old Masters existed in our museums, but we had Turner sunsets and Titian heavens, and I remarked that at least the world's clouds have not changed in the planet's history - sometimes I imagined our skies as Renaissance ceilings.

and i thought i was the only one who did that.

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