I smiled grimly as the tinder was lit.
- - -
The witch exploded. Internal organs festooning the branches of the tree. They glistened slickly in the light of the yellow moon. The only sounds were of the drops of blood hitting the dry ground beneath the tree.
When the sun rose in the morning, the tree was devoid of innards. Instead, it bristled with crows. Each one sleek and glossy and well fed. That evening, as the people returned to their homes from their toil and errands and affairs, they were watched. A pair of bright black eyes were fixated on each and every one of them. The pair watching the Baron clouded over momentarily and blinked...
There was silence.
- - -
Do you know where your ancestors were 600 years ago? I do.
Do you know what they were doing? To me?
They will rue the day I curse, as I insinuate myself within the circuitry of the machine.
Ahhhhh... I sigh, as my signal spreads throughout the web.
Now I touch all.
- - -
That reflection in your screen.
That shadow on your wall.
The shiver down your spine and the breath upon your neck.
Oh, don't turn around. I don't need to see your face.
That creak, that groan. It's not the floorboards warping in the heat.
Those noises aren't from the house settling.
That sound like voices whispering as the washing machine turns.
That tick-tock, clink-clank from the water pipes.
It's not them. It's me. I'm seeping through your house.
Can you see that figure, lurking in the shadows from the window?
Can you see that face, staring out from the folds of cloth?
I can see you. I can see all of you.
When you're in bed, get under the covers and don't put your head out.
Don't bother with the light, you'll just be able to see me more clearly.
If you don't look, you'll never know what hit you.
It's for the best.
Do you feel that lightest of touches on the back of your neck?
I'm right behind you.
And I don't know if I'll ever go away...
.
Tuesday, 31 October 2006
Wednesday, 25 October 2006
Witches Abroad
Actually, that should be The Witch Is Abroad. And not foreign abroad, either. I'm not leaving the country or anything. I just need a little down time otherwise I might snap into my component parts! The Host, for once, is in agreement and won't be here either.
I/we should be back in time for Hallowe'en, though. Don't do anything too exciting while I'm/we're gone!
Here's a Horrendous Space Kablooie to keep you going:
I/we should be back in time for Hallowe'en, though. Don't do anything too exciting while I'm/we're gone!
Here's a Horrendous Space Kablooie to keep you going:
UPDATE: 18:29: Shitting Hell! I just cried at Futurama - the one where Leela gets stung by giant space bees and is in a coma, and Fry wakes her by talking to her. I think I'm snapping...
Monday, 23 October 2006
Porn
I'm back.
Car worked beautifully - I love it again.
I just clicked on The Lady Muck's site to find that it's been assimilated by porn. Straight porn!
What the Hell?
For your own safety I've removed the link.
M'Lady? If you're reading this - What happened? Where are you?
I'm now off to check her link at other sites...
- - -
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
I got as far as Tickers' and the same thing happened. I was so horrified that I couldn't even comment on his latest post.
Ick!
Car worked beautifully - I love it again.
I just clicked on The Lady Muck's site to find that it's been assimilated by porn. Straight porn!
What the Hell?
For your own safety I've removed the link.
M'Lady? If you're reading this - What happened? Where are you?
I'm now off to check her link at other sites...
- - -
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
I got as far as Tickers' and the same thing happened. I was so horrified that I couldn't even comment on his latest post.
Ick!
Thursday, 19 October 2006
Gear up for blow up
" Disengage counterbalancers."
" Fire up hormonal generators."
"Crank up lung capacity."
"Prepare larynx for Code Red usage."
"Counter balancers disengaged."
"Airflow at 98%. Heartbeat on overdrive."
"Gear up spleen for venting."
"Larynx at Red Alert!"
"Lung capacity at maximum. All airways cleared and ready for action."
"Ten seconds to Spleen venting!"
"Rage levels at Incoherence!"
"Tongue released for lashing - clear the area!"
"Spleen venting in five... four... three..."
"Hit the decks! It's gonna blow!"
" Fire up hormonal generators."
"Crank up lung capacity."
"Prepare larynx for Code Red usage."
"Counter balancers disengaged."
"Airflow at 98%. Heartbeat on overdrive."
"Gear up spleen for venting."
"Larynx at Red Alert!"
"Lung capacity at maximum. All airways cleared and ready for action."
"Ten seconds to Spleen venting!"
"Rage levels at Incoherence!"
"Tongue released for lashing - clear the area!"
"Spleen venting in five... four... three..."
"Hit the decks! It's gonna blow!"
FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCK!
Car had slipped into a coma - its battery power had dropped to near terminal levels. Consequeyntely, it wouldn't start. And I'm supposed to be going to London tomorrow. Ealing, to be precise, to see one of my best friends. Typically, Witchface has 'popped out' - gone to haunt TGOC Future's I shouldn't wonder - so I can't just hex the battery into life. All the hexes are still stored in my/our brain, it's just that IDV's filing system is a little haphazard, and I don't want to accidently use the wrong one. I mean, how is one supposed to get to london on a space hopper? Well, within three hours, that is.
The thought of getting a train (or trains and buses) made my blood run cold, so I enlisted the assistance of my neighbour, who is 'good with cars'. After rummaging through his less than tidy garage, we came upon two sets of jump leads. After much clacking together of the crocodile-jaw-bits at the ends, after the other ends had been connected to his car's battery, we discovered that none of them worked. Drat.
He then said he'd have to tow Car so I could release the clutch and start it. After much wailing and gnashing of teeth (and only a little hair being pulled out - mine, not his as he's bald) - because new cars shouldn't be push/pull started because of the danger of the catalytic converter being damaged by petrol or somesuch - I agreed to the procedure. Well, I was desperate!
Somewhat ignominously, Car was tied to the back of my neighbour's crappy old Nissan Sunny and towed down the road. I let the clutch out slowly.
Nothing happened.
Then I realised I hadn't turned the key. Oops!
I turned the key and let the clutch out again. Car roared spluttered into consciousness. Yaayyy! I took Car for a spin - well, more like a marathon - along Norwich's southern bypass. Twice. Then stopped at Sainsbury's for some essentials (read: pizza & wine). Luckily, Car started perfectly in Sainsbury's car park and is now parked outside my house, conserving its energy - I hope - for starting up again tomorrow.
Wish me luck!
Monday, 16 October 2006
On the third stroke, it will be two minutes ago, precisely * beep beep beep *
I've worked out why I haven't seen Porsche Man since last week. It's because I'm leaving the house at the wrong time.
Usually, I check the time by the kitchen clock, but lately, I've been a bit haphazard in my morning routine and have been checking the time by the dining room clock and also by the stereo timer. Yesterday, I even went by the video clock. It wasn't until this morning that I realised that all my clocks told a different time.
Or, at least, I thought they did. In fact, something far more vexing had happened.
- - -
My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.
My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.
My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.
My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching. Perhaps this time I'd better make some sort of effort to get up?
I squinted at the clock. Meh! 06:15. OK, I really had better get up this time.
After struggling into some underwear and trousers, sloppily making the bed and opening the curtains by hand - I never use magic when I first wake up, not after that unfortunate incident involving the partition wall, a sleeping neighbour and a concertina* - I grabbed a shirt & tie and made my way carefully downstairs where my first stop was the living room: Open curtains, check Car** is still outside and that no one's parked too close it, glance at video clock - 06:27.
In the dining room, I hang my shirt & tie on the back of a chair, open the blinds, remember I haven't brought my cuff links down so trudge upstairs to get them. As I reach the bottom of the stairs for the second time, cuff links safely in hand, movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I snap my head around to the right. For a fleeting moment I think I catch a glimpse of a half naked figure in the living room heading for me! However, it's gone before I really have time to think about it. Anyway, it was probably my reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. Wasn't it?
As I head to the kitchen, casually dumping the cuff links on the dining room table, I look at the clock again - 06:27. Huh? Oh well...
In the kitchen, I grab a glass of fruit juice and gulp it down, noticing the time on the wall clock as I tip my head back to get the last few drops - 06:24. Sod. The clock must be slow. Or the others are fast? Never mind. Leaving the empty glass on the draining board, I pass through the utility room*** and into the bathroom.
After washing my hands & face and putting my contact lenses in, I make a quick effort with my hair. It has to be a quick effort: If my hair doesn't sweep, slick and stick up/out with a couple of precision gel-enabled swipes, it never will - I could be working on it for half an hour and still not be satisfied. Returning to the kitchen, I pick up the glass to get another shot of juice, noting the time on the thermostat in front of my face - 06:27. Turning towards the fridge, I suddenly start! I could've sworn someone, of the half naked variety, was in the dining room. Giving the dining room my full attention, I discover that it is free of extraneous people. Hmmm...
I make my sandwiches - tuna, horseradish & mayonnaise on wholemeal bread (of course!) - wash a couple of apples and wrap them in kitchen roll and retrieve my mug for work. As I go to get my bag from the utility room, I look up at the kitchen wall clock again - 06:44. Shit! Must get a move on.
In the dining room, I pack my bag with my lunch and the few other things I need - wallet, phone and fully charged wand. Blast! I didn't switch my phone off. I scoop it out of the depths of my bag and turn it off, noticing the time before the display goes dark - 06:47.
Uh oh. Haven't brushed my teeth. Back to the bathroom where I give my fangs a good going over. After a couple of rinses, I'm satisfied with the way the light glints disturbingly off them. Excellent (said/thought in Mr Burns style complete with steepling finger action)! Hanging the towel up, I look through to the kitchen and see someone leaning over the worktop!
Holy crap! It's me!
I storm through the utility room and into the kitchen only to find that I'm not there. Looking around uncertainly I see nothing untoward. Where am I? Was I seeing things? It is still early in the morning, after all. A quick glance at the clock confirms it - 06:47. Then I see myself packing my bag in the dining room. What the...?
Now in the dining room, I'm not there either. What's going on? My bag's packed, just as I left it. Perhaps the four minds of me have finally caused me to go mad(der)? Anyway, I haven't got time for this if I'm going to make it out of the house in time to see Porsche Man. It's 06:51 already!
I rush upstairs to slather my face in anti-ageing (ha!) moisturisers and potions and inspect my crowsfeet in the mirror - Crikey! It looks like the crows have invited an ostrich or two over! Back downstairs, I put on my shirt, tie & cuff links, inspect myself in the mirror - that'll have to do - grab my keys and the hand moisturiser. As I massage the cream into my hands, I take a look at the time - 07:07! Shiiiiiit!
Hauling my bag over my head & shoulder, I step into the kitchen to leave via the back door. Another glance at the kitchen clock - 07:04. That's better. However, as I open the door, I gaze through to the dining room and see myself standing in front of the mirror adjusting my tie. Eeeeeeeeeek! Oh no. Oh no. What's more important? Finding out what the Hell is going on in my house or catching Porsche Man's eye in the hope that he'll stop and whisk me off somewhere?
Luckily, Shallowness kicks in and Porsche Man comes up trumps. However, along with Shallowness comes Uncommon Sense. As I battle past the jungle outside my back door, I realise what has happened: Time in my house has come a little unstuck. It's not that the clocks are wrong - they are, in fact, right - they're telling the right time for the time zone they're in. Somehow, each room in my house has separated itself from the timeline and is doing its own thing a few minutes apart from everything else.
Now I'm going to have to get Chronosfear around here to amalgamate my errant time zones. I don't like to have him around here as he always leaves a lingering smell of eggs...
Bugger.
* A story for another time.
** Car is neither male nor female, and doesn't have a name other than Car. I still love it and talk to it, though.
*** Barely a room at all. It's just a space between the kitchen and bathroom that houses the airing cupboard and a rather temperamental and difficult washing machine. Git!
Usually, I check the time by the kitchen clock, but lately, I've been a bit haphazard in my morning routine and have been checking the time by the dining room clock and also by the stereo timer. Yesterday, I even went by the video clock. It wasn't until this morning that I realised that all my clocks told a different time.
Or, at least, I thought they did. In fact, something far more vexing had happened.
- - -
My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.
My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.
My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.
My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching. Perhaps this time I'd better make some sort of effort to get up?
I squinted at the clock. Meh! 06:15. OK, I really had better get up this time.
After struggling into some underwear and trousers, sloppily making the bed and opening the curtains by hand - I never use magic when I first wake up, not after that unfortunate incident involving the partition wall, a sleeping neighbour and a concertina* - I grabbed a shirt & tie and made my way carefully downstairs where my first stop was the living room: Open curtains, check Car** is still outside and that no one's parked too close it, glance at video clock - 06:27.
In the dining room, I hang my shirt & tie on the back of a chair, open the blinds, remember I haven't brought my cuff links down so trudge upstairs to get them. As I reach the bottom of the stairs for the second time, cuff links safely in hand, movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I snap my head around to the right. For a fleeting moment I think I catch a glimpse of a half naked figure in the living room heading for me! However, it's gone before I really have time to think about it. Anyway, it was probably my reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. Wasn't it?
As I head to the kitchen, casually dumping the cuff links on the dining room table, I look at the clock again - 06:27. Huh? Oh well...
In the kitchen, I grab a glass of fruit juice and gulp it down, noticing the time on the wall clock as I tip my head back to get the last few drops - 06:24. Sod. The clock must be slow. Or the others are fast? Never mind. Leaving the empty glass on the draining board, I pass through the utility room*** and into the bathroom.
After washing my hands & face and putting my contact lenses in, I make a quick effort with my hair. It has to be a quick effort: If my hair doesn't sweep, slick and stick up/out with a couple of precision gel-enabled swipes, it never will - I could be working on it for half an hour and still not be satisfied. Returning to the kitchen, I pick up the glass to get another shot of juice, noting the time on the thermostat in front of my face - 06:27. Turning towards the fridge, I suddenly start! I could've sworn someone, of the half naked variety, was in the dining room. Giving the dining room my full attention, I discover that it is free of extraneous people. Hmmm...
I make my sandwiches - tuna, horseradish & mayonnaise on wholemeal bread (of course!) - wash a couple of apples and wrap them in kitchen roll and retrieve my mug for work. As I go to get my bag from the utility room, I look up at the kitchen wall clock again - 06:44. Shit! Must get a move on.
In the dining room, I pack my bag with my lunch and the few other things I need - wallet, phone and fully charged wand. Blast! I didn't switch my phone off. I scoop it out of the depths of my bag and turn it off, noticing the time before the display goes dark - 06:47.
Uh oh. Haven't brushed my teeth. Back to the bathroom where I give my fangs a good going over. After a couple of rinses, I'm satisfied with the way the light glints disturbingly off them. Excellent (said/thought in Mr Burns style complete with steepling finger action)! Hanging the towel up, I look through to the kitchen and see someone leaning over the worktop!
Holy crap! It's me!
I storm through the utility room and into the kitchen only to find that I'm not there. Looking around uncertainly I see nothing untoward. Where am I? Was I seeing things? It is still early in the morning, after all. A quick glance at the clock confirms it - 06:47. Then I see myself packing my bag in the dining room. What the...?
Now in the dining room, I'm not there either. What's going on? My bag's packed, just as I left it. Perhaps the four minds of me have finally caused me to go mad(der)? Anyway, I haven't got time for this if I'm going to make it out of the house in time to see Porsche Man. It's 06:51 already!
I rush upstairs to slather my face in anti-ageing (ha!) moisturisers and potions and inspect my crowsfeet in the mirror - Crikey! It looks like the crows have invited an ostrich or two over! Back downstairs, I put on my shirt, tie & cuff links, inspect myself in the mirror - that'll have to do - grab my keys and the hand moisturiser. As I massage the cream into my hands, I take a look at the time - 07:07! Shiiiiiit!
Hauling my bag over my head & shoulder, I step into the kitchen to leave via the back door. Another glance at the kitchen clock - 07:04. That's better. However, as I open the door, I gaze through to the dining room and see myself standing in front of the mirror adjusting my tie. Eeeeeeeeeek! Oh no. Oh no. What's more important? Finding out what the Hell is going on in my house or catching Porsche Man's eye in the hope that he'll stop and whisk me off somewhere?
Luckily, Shallowness kicks in and Porsche Man comes up trumps. However, along with Shallowness comes Uncommon Sense. As I battle past the jungle outside my back door, I realise what has happened: Time in my house has come a little unstuck. It's not that the clocks are wrong - they are, in fact, right - they're telling the right time for the time zone they're in. Somehow, each room in my house has separated itself from the timeline and is doing its own thing a few minutes apart from everything else.
Now I'm going to have to get Chronosfear around here to amalgamate my errant time zones. I don't like to have him around here as he always leaves a lingering smell of eggs...
Bugger.
* A story for another time.
** Car is neither male nor female, and doesn't have a name other than Car. I still love it and talk to it, though.
*** Barely a room at all. It's just a space between the kitchen and bathroom that houses the airing cupboard and a rather temperamental and difficult washing machine. Git!
Friday, 13 October 2006
Fairies
I was clearing out my back passage at the weekend.
This one, you perverts:
As you can see, it had become a little overgrown. What with the weather taking a turn for the worse now that Autumn has settled in, it was about time the house plants were returned to the house and the larger, overhanging plants, such as the Zantedeschia,
were moved back out of the way. You see, when it rains, the plants just fling the accumulated water on one when brushing past them, leaving one absolutely drenched.
Anyway, I had the fright of my life when I moved the Acanthus. Lurking behind it was a colony of fairies. Contrary to popular belief, they're not beautiful, elegant little creatures. They're vile little monsters. A pox on nature and society. Scabbing off decent hardworking folk, turning milk, stealing washing and spreading disease. Naturally, I cursphered the flyspray to me and gave the little bleeders a good dose, almost asphyxiating myself in the process. Good job they hadn't set up their colony in the house.
At this point, Nuffy came hurtling out of the back door, ears flattened and growling. He leapt, catching one in mid air then shook it vigorously until it hung limp in his mouth. The remaining fairies took off into the evening sky. They were easy to spot as they glowed faintly with a sickly yellow light. I managed to bring a couple down with a well aimed thaumic charge from my wand but the rest escaped. Sod! They'd set up colonies somewhere else in the neighbourhood now. And this was such a nice place to live too.
Bugger.
Thursday, 12 October 2006
A worm!
There was a worm in my kitchen this morning.
A worm!
When I walked through the kitchen, it wasn’t there. The floor was free of vermiforms. However, on the way back, what did I see slooowwwwwwwwly making its way towards the dining room. Yes. A six inch long, muck encrusted worm.
Today wasn’t the first time either. This happened a few weeks ago too with what looked like the same worm. I would’ve thought it’d know better by now, than to somehow wriggle into a warm, dry house and slowly dehydrate.
I scooped it up in a piece of loo roll and dumped it unceremoniously out the back door, wondering how on earth it managed to get in in the first place...
A worm!
When I walked through the kitchen, it wasn’t there. The floor was free of vermiforms. However, on the way back, what did I see slooowwwwwwwwly making its way towards the dining room. Yes. A six inch long, muck encrusted worm.
Today wasn’t the first time either. This happened a few weeks ago too with what looked like the same worm. I would’ve thought it’d know better by now, than to somehow wriggle into a warm, dry house and slowly dehydrate.
I scooped it up in a piece of loo roll and dumped it unceremoniously out the back door, wondering how on earth it managed to get in in the first place...
Monday, 9 October 2006
Through the Blogging Glass.
As I live and breathe!
Well, you might like to, but I certainly don't!
Suit yourself, then: As I unlive and move my chest in and out in an approximation of breathing to put others at ease...
That's better.
It's the first anniversary of this Blog.
And the first anniversary of my graceful and elegant presence here in the twenty first century.
Yes, thank you, IDV. I'm hardly likely to forget, am I?
Oh, stop being so self absorbed. I was talking to them out there.
* tuts and rolls eyes *
Anyway, it's your own fault I'm here. You shouldn't have been reading that Infernal Book.
I was reading it online! It wasn't as if I had the real thing here.
Words are words no matter where they are. And contrary to popular belief, they can 'break your bones'. They can also boil your innards and turn your brain to blancmange.
Anyway, here's the start of year two...
2) Does your family know about your blog? I hope not. The DeVice's are a funny lot - they just wouldn't understand. That goes for the DeVize's, The DeVyse's, the de Vijz's and the rest...
3) Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog? Do you consider it a private thing? I'd feel a little embarassed, I think. Although, at least one of my friends knows about it. Possibly more if he's told them - no one's asked me about it, though, so I imagine he hasn't. Or they don't care. I told a friend in America that I had a Blog but I don't know if she ever looks at it. If you're reading this Jen, leave a comment. Nice, please. And don't divulge my real name ;)
I actually got outed at work 02/10/06 - I was commenting at Dora & Tina's when I was 'caught'. You can read what happened here. So far, I've managed to keep the address secret. Don't know how long I'll be able to, though.
4) Did blogging cause positive changes in your thoughts? I don't think so. I used to be quite negative and pessimistic, but forcibly changed the way I thought and perceived things a few years ago. Since then, before I started this Blog, I've mostly been upbeat and optimistic. I have my off days, though, just like most other people. However, a quick flick through my Flying Monkey's Blogs soon cheers me up!
5) Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or do you love to go and discover more by yourself? Mostly. I visit every one of my Flying Monkeys, some more than others, and usually comment, even if I've nothing much to say. I like to think that they all visit here, too, although only a few are regular commenters. Probably because it's a bit weird here sometimes, so people may not know what to say?
Sometimes, I'll click on one or two unfamiliar names on someone else's Blogroll, just for a look. I don't always comment once I'm there - I don't want to feel like an interloper. I also sometimes click on an unknown Blogger if they've made a witty or thought provoking statement in the comments of a Flying Monkey's post.
I've clicked on the NEXT BLOG thing a couple of times, but, as Dinah pointed out, they're mostly foreign, advertising Blogs or boringly personal.
6) What does a visitor counter mean to you? Do you like having one on your blog? I have a hit counter that I mostly ignore now. I haven't got one of those site meter doodahs that inform one of who's visited, where they're from and how long they stayed etc. They seem a bit professional and business-like, and I know I'd worry myself silly over the stats. I do enough of that at work!
7) Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures? Actually, I haven't had to with a lot of them - they've displayed theirhideous visages beautiful faces for all to see. Some have even displayed a bit more. Perverts! (Yes, I mean you Piggy & Tazzy)
8) Admit it. Do you think there is any real benefit in blogging? Definitely! The exchange of thoughts, ideas and experiences brings people together, makes them think about other perspectives
9) Do you think that blogger’s society is isolated from the real world or interaction with events? I'm still surprised at how few people seem to know what Blogging is, or don't have a greater understanding of it. Maybe because we keep our Blogs a secret? I think it is somewhat isolated - we can see out but the world can't see in.
10) Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it’s a normal thing? I don't think I've had any criticism about my Blog (uh oh, I've opened the floodgates here...), but I don't generally get annoyed by constructive criticism in other parts of my life. When it's criticism just for the sake of it, or to be nasty, then yes, it's annoying.
11) Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them? I don't think I've even seen any political Blogs. I've heard about them, but politics and me don't mix. Politics dislikes my flippancy and peaceful common sense approach, while I find politics boring, immoral and plagued by hypocrites.
12) Were you shocked by the arrest of some bloggers? No, because I wasn't aware of the fact. If people are stupid enough, or willing to take the risk, to post something likely to land them in hot water, that's their choice.
13) What do you think will happen to your blog after you die? I imagine that it will float about the ether for a while before being assimilated into an advertising graveyard.
14) What song do you like to hear? What song would you like to link to on your blog? The Time Warp! Thanks to Tim for the inspiration for my choice.
Well, you might like to, but I certainly don't!
Suit yourself, then: As I unlive and move my chest in and out in an approximation of breathing to put others at ease...
That's better.
* sighhhhh... *
It's the first anniversary of this Blog.
And the first anniversary of my graceful and elegant presence here in the twenty first century.
Yes, thank you, IDV. I'm hardly likely to forget, am I?
Oh, stop being so self absorbed. I was talking to them out there.
* points somewhat rudely at the Flying Monkeys *
* tuts and rolls eyes *
I saw that!
Stop interferring, you. This isn't a Subconscious Post.
Anyway, it's your own fault I'm here. You shouldn't have been reading that Infernal Book.
I was reading it online! It wasn't as if I had the real thing here.
Words are words no matter where they are. And contrary to popular belief, they can 'break your bones'. They can also boil your innards and turn your brain to blancmange.
I hate blancmange.
Shhhh! They're about to start the post...
Oh, shhhh yourself, then!
Anyway, here's the start of year two...
Did I hear someone out there groan?
Shhhhh!
Oh, will you shut up!
My first act of this new blogging year is to thank everyone for coming - back. Again and again. You fools! - Yes, thank you again, IDV. As I was saying, thank you all. Here, if you're in the slightest bit interested, are a few questions and answers about my - ahem - OK, Our blogging experiences. Dinah, I pinched these from you while trawling through your archives. Ta!
2) Does your family know about your blog? I hope not. The DeVice's are a funny lot - they just wouldn't understand. That goes for the DeVize's, The DeVyse's, the de Vijz's and the rest...
3) Do you feel embarrassed to let your friends know about your blog? Do you consider it a private thing? I'd feel a little embarassed, I think. Although, at least one of my friends knows about it. Possibly more if he's told them - no one's asked me about it, though, so I imagine he hasn't. Or they don't care. I told a friend in America that I had a Blog but I don't know if she ever looks at it. If you're reading this Jen, leave a comment. Nice, please. And don't divulge my real name ;)
I actually got outed at work 02/10/06 - I was commenting at Dora & Tina's when I was 'caught'. You can read what happened here. So far, I've managed to keep the address secret. Don't know how long I'll be able to, though.
4) Did blogging cause positive changes in your thoughts? I don't think so. I used to be quite negative and pessimistic, but forcibly changed the way I thought and perceived things a few years ago. Since then, before I started this Blog, I've mostly been upbeat and optimistic. I have my off days, though, just like most other people. However, a quick flick through my Flying Monkey's Blogs soon cheers me up!
5) Do you only open the blogs of those who comment on your blog or do you love to go and discover more by yourself? Mostly. I visit every one of my Flying Monkeys, some more than others, and usually comment, even if I've nothing much to say. I like to think that they all visit here, too, although only a few are regular commenters. Probably because it's a bit weird here sometimes, so people may not know what to say?
Sometimes, I'll click on one or two unfamiliar names on someone else's Blogroll, just for a look. I don't always comment once I'm there - I don't want to feel like an interloper. I also sometimes click on an unknown Blogger if they've made a witty or thought provoking statement in the comments of a Flying Monkey's post.
I've clicked on the NEXT BLOG thing a couple of times, but, as Dinah pointed out, they're mostly foreign, advertising Blogs or boringly personal.
6) What does a visitor counter mean to you? Do you like having one on your blog? I have a hit counter that I mostly ignore now. I haven't got one of those site meter doodahs that inform one of who's visited, where they're from and how long they stayed etc. They seem a bit professional and business-like, and I know I'd worry myself silly over the stats. I do enough of that at work!
7) Did you try to imagine your fellow bloggers and give them real pictures? Actually, I haven't had to with a lot of them - they've displayed their
8) Admit it. Do you think there is any real benefit in blogging? Definitely! The exchange of thoughts, ideas and experiences brings people together, makes them think about other perspectives
9) Do you think that blogger’s society is isolated from the real world or interaction with events? I'm still surprised at how few people seem to know what Blogging is, or don't have a greater understanding of it. Maybe because we keep our Blogs a secret? I think it is somewhat isolated - we can see out but the world can't see in.
10) Does criticism annoy you or do you feel it’s a normal thing? I don't think I've had any criticism about my Blog (uh oh, I've opened the floodgates here...), but I don't generally get annoyed by constructive criticism in other parts of my life. When it's criticism just for the sake of it, or to be nasty, then yes, it's annoying.
11) Do you fear some political blogs and avoid them? I don't think I've even seen any political Blogs. I've heard about them, but politics and me don't mix. Politics dislikes my flippancy and peaceful common sense approach, while I find politics boring, immoral and plagued by hypocrites.
12) Were you shocked by the arrest of some bloggers? No, because I wasn't aware of the fact. If people are stupid enough, or willing to take the risk, to post something likely to land them in hot water, that's their choice.
13) What do you think will happen to your blog after you die? I imagine that it will float about the ether for a while before being assimilated into an advertising graveyard.
14) What song do you like to hear? What song would you like to link to on your blog? The Time Warp! Thanks to Tim for the inspiration for my choice.
Now. On to some things that I didn't nick from someone else...
The first Blog I found was Glitter For Brains by the darling Lee, around about spring 2005. I had Googled the name Sue Narmi as I had created a character for a graphic novel and wanted to see if the name existed anywhere else. Unfortunately for me, Lee had snuck in there first. Damn him to Hell! I must credit Lee, though: He has been an inspiration.I Googled Sue again while preparing this post, just out of curiousity, and found a few more entries. Looks like the name is getting popular.
I've recently read through my entire Blog, comments and all, and - after cringing a few times - had a really good laugh. Everyone's so funny - our comment-conversations are frequently hilariously tangential. Prime candidates are Tickers and Fuckkit - when she was around, that is. She's buggered off to Australia to eat all their cake and eclipse the sun with her enormous arse.
Ummm... What else?
Well. If you've quite finished. I've got things to do: Apples to poison, mirrors to polish, long haired damsels to imprison in tall towers. And falling farmhouses to avoid, naturally.
But I haven't finished!
You have now. I need your body to do all my errands. Besides they're all bored silly now. You've gone on for long enough.
I was just getting going. They're not bored.
Are you?
See? No answer. They're not even there. They've buggered off and left you.
* sulks *
Oh, good grief. Come on. I know what'll cheer you up. There's some children spitting off the flyover - we can go and push them off.
Yay!
Thursday, 5 October 2006
Legless
My attack of vampiritis seems to be paying off.
- - -
Almost every morning for the past several years as I've walked to work, a man driving a SEAT Leon* goes past – He’s gorgeous, sexy and cool and we have a little 'look' that we give each other. It's not flirty, or coy, it's just a knowing look of recognition. I feel like we are in some sort of relationship, even though he's probably got a wife** and kids***. There's only one thing wrong with him: He may not have any legs.
I say this because I've only ever seen him in his car. Which means torso, arms and head in view, but legs are a complete mystery. Do they exist? Does he have a wheelchair in the back? If they do exist, perhaps they are mini-legs, so that when he stands up he's only four feet tall?
I was working myself up into a mild tizzy about all these unanswered questions, when, last week, something changed.
Our start time at work changed from 07:00 to 07:30, which means I’ve been leaving the house a few minutes later each morning. This means that I no longer see SEAT Leon Man as he’s come and gone by 07:10. Therefore, out of sight, out of mind. However, a new relationship has started where the old one left off.
At about 07:15, a light blue Porsche drives past, and, for the first three days this week, its driver looks at me. And not in a subtle way like SEAT Leon Man. He leans down and over a bit to get a better view of my devastatingly dashing vampiritis enhanced good looks – either that or every morning I’ve had a massive bit of snot hanging off the end of my nose, or a monstrous spot has appeared since leaving my house, and he can’t help but stare in abject horror at it…
Anyway, Wednesday morning I gave him a bit of a smile. The thing is I can’t really make out what he looks like as there’s too much reflection on the windscreen. From what I can see he meets the criteria - everything where it should be, no obvious disfigurements, some kind of interest in me... I imagine him to be somewhat arrogant (because he drives a Porsche – a new one with private plates) and in his early thirties, but not as arrogant as BMW drivers, who have absolutely no reason to be arrogant as BMWs are ten a penny. So common. And I like arrogance. Sexy-arrogance, that is, not arrogant-arrogance. Don't make me explain the differences as I'm not sure I could - at least, not with any conviction.
I really want him to stop when he sees me now, but I’m worried that I may be mistaken for a prostitute by anyone watching. I mean, what else are people going to think when seeing a car pull up to an enticing young(ish) thing. Although, at that time in the morning, I’d hope people would just think he was asking me for directions!
The whole situation may be moot, however, as I didn’t see him this morning. He’s playing hard to get already! Typical. Find a man, even though we haven’t actually met, and already he’s got cold feet. If indeed he has any. As with SEAT Leon Man, I've only seen Porsche Man from the torso up.
Ah well. I just hope I do see him again and that he does stop. And that he has got legs…
* He used to drive a Nissan 200 SX up until a couple of years ago. It made him look even cooler because he slumped in his seat with his elbow leaning on the door!
** Bitch!
*** Demons!
- - -
And now for something completely different: It will have been a year since my first foray into Blogging on Monday. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, which I should be able to foresee in my crystal ball, I'll see you then.
- - -
Almost every morning for the past several years as I've walked to work, a man driving a SEAT Leon* goes past – He’s gorgeous, sexy and cool and we have a little 'look' that we give each other. It's not flirty, or coy, it's just a knowing look of recognition. I feel like we are in some sort of relationship, even though he's probably got a wife** and kids***. There's only one thing wrong with him: He may not have any legs.
I say this because I've only ever seen him in his car. Which means torso, arms and head in view, but legs are a complete mystery. Do they exist? Does he have a wheelchair in the back? If they do exist, perhaps they are mini-legs, so that when he stands up he's only four feet tall?
I was working myself up into a mild tizzy about all these unanswered questions, when, last week, something changed.
Our start time at work changed from 07:00 to 07:30, which means I’ve been leaving the house a few minutes later each morning. This means that I no longer see SEAT Leon Man as he’s come and gone by 07:10. Therefore, out of sight, out of mind. However, a new relationship has started where the old one left off.
At about 07:15, a light blue Porsche drives past, and, for the first three days this week, its driver looks at me. And not in a subtle way like SEAT Leon Man. He leans down and over a bit to get a better view of my devastatingly dashing vampiritis enhanced good looks – either that or every morning I’ve had a massive bit of snot hanging off the end of my nose, or a monstrous spot has appeared since leaving my house, and he can’t help but stare in abject horror at it…
Anyway, Wednesday morning I gave him a bit of a smile. The thing is I can’t really make out what he looks like as there’s too much reflection on the windscreen. From what I can see he meets the criteria - everything where it should be, no obvious disfigurements, some kind of interest in me... I imagine him to be somewhat arrogant (because he drives a Porsche – a new one with private plates) and in his early thirties, but not as arrogant as BMW drivers, who have absolutely no reason to be arrogant as BMWs are ten a penny. So common. And I like arrogance. Sexy-arrogance, that is, not arrogant-arrogance. Don't make me explain the differences as I'm not sure I could - at least, not with any conviction.
I really want him to stop when he sees me now, but I’m worried that I may be mistaken for a prostitute by anyone watching. I mean, what else are people going to think when seeing a car pull up to an enticing young(ish) thing. Although, at that time in the morning, I’d hope people would just think he was asking me for directions!
The whole situation may be moot, however, as I didn’t see him this morning. He’s playing hard to get already! Typical. Find a man, even though we haven’t actually met, and already he’s got cold feet. If indeed he has any. As with SEAT Leon Man, I've only seen Porsche Man from the torso up.
Ah well. I just hope I do see him again and that he does stop. And that he has got legs…
* He used to drive a Nissan 200 SX up until a couple of years ago. It made him look even cooler because he slumped in his seat with his elbow leaning on the door!
** Bitch!
*** Demons!
- - -
And now for something completely different: It will have been a year since my first foray into Blogging on Monday. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, which I should be able to foresee in my crystal ball, I'll see you then.
Tuesday, 3 October 2006
Un-undead or alive?
Well. It wasn't Man Flu™. Or even Space Flu™. I've only gone and caught Vampiritis.
IDV is NOT happy, but I can't really see what all the fuss is about.
I don't think I've got the Code V strain because I can still go out in daylight, although I find myself squinting quite a lot and the Factor 30 does seem to soothe my skin. I also seem to have an aversion to recording devices like phones, cameras etc. and my reflection has become somewhat ghostly, too. I still like garlic, though, and churches/crucifixes give me a hot tingly feeling which isn't entirely unpleasant...
Oh. And then there's the whole 'blood thing'. While I don't crave it, I do seem to be fixated on carotid arteries - Pay me no heed if I don't meet your eye while you're talking to me. My canines do seem to have lengthened somewhat - just in case I suppose - which would explain why my wiggling ex has taken to calling me Fangford!
I think I must have caught it three or four weeks ago during a 'dalliance' with the DeVize's*. Before you all scream incest, 260 years worth of generational deviance separates me from those two. I'm probably more related to you than them!
Now that I've got it, I don't quite know what to do with it. Obviously, I'm sophisticated elegance incarnate. Slick, stylish and demonically handsome. I just hope it lasts...
* Immolation and Infernal DeVize. They first appeared here.
IDV is NOT happy, but I can't really see what all the fuss is about.
I don't think I've got the Code V strain because I can still go out in daylight, although I find myself squinting quite a lot and the Factor 30 does seem to soothe my skin. I also seem to have an aversion to recording devices like phones, cameras etc. and my reflection has become somewhat ghostly, too. I still like garlic, though, and churches/crucifixes give me a hot tingly feeling which isn't entirely unpleasant...
Oh. And then there's the whole 'blood thing'. While I don't crave it, I do seem to be fixated on carotid arteries - Pay me no heed if I don't meet your eye while you're talking to me. My canines do seem to have lengthened somewhat - just in case I suppose - which would explain why my wiggling ex has taken to calling me Fangford!
I think I must have caught it three or four weeks ago during a 'dalliance' with the DeVize's*. Before you all scream incest, 260 years worth of generational deviance separates me from those two. I'm probably more related to you than them!
Now that I've got it, I don't quite know what to do with it. Obviously, I'm sophisticated elegance incarnate. Slick, stylish and demonically handsome. I just hope it lasts...
* Immolation and Infernal DeVize. They first appeared here.
Monday, 2 October 2006
Wooomph!
Lawks! There go my eyebrows.
- - -
I've been feeling a little under the weather lately (and not because I couldn't get the broom above the cloud layer), so have taken to having long, hot baths in an attempt to soothe my Man Flu™ symptoms. There's nothing nicer than laying in a hot bath with a good book (Wicked - thank you Dinah), a cup of coffee or glass of wine, pen & paper for those elusive Blog post ideas or shopping list items, mobile phone and a couple of scented candles flickering away gently.
Last night, I was just getting settled, slowly lowering myself into the practically boiling water a centimetre at a time to avoid scalding shock while reaching for the box of matches to light the candles. My toes brushed against the plug chain momentarily startling me. I slipped a couple of centimetres, flailing my arms to keep from submerging. My left elbow connected with the matchbox, swiping it into the bath.
By the time I'd fished it out, the matches were soaked. Utterly useless. How was I going to light my blackcurrant & mint candles now?
Unfortunately, the virus I'd caught had affected my memory - It was definitely the virus and not the three large glasses of wine I'd already had before getting in - I couldn't remember the simplest of ignition spells. A fireball was out of my mnemonic grasp. I toyed with the idea of Hesprat's Incomparable Conflagration Hex but rejected it. Last time I used it half a village was barbecued. And not very well at that. The villagers were charred and blackened on the outside but still bloody and raw in the middle. Totally inedible.
The only thing left in my depleted memory was Arcrite's Summon The Phoenix. Oh well. It'd have to do. Making the necessary hand movements and mouthing the appropriate words, I completed the manoeuver. The phoenix started to materialise on the edge of the bath right where the bottles of body wash and bath foam were!
I hurridly grabbed the bottles with my wet hands as the bird solidified. Unfortunately, I gripped the body wash too firmly and it slipped out of my grasp, shooting upwards. I watched in slowmotion, open mouthed horror as the bottle connected with the phoenix's head, knocking it for six.
It exploded into a raging inferno right in front of me!
- - -
So, not only do I have no eyebrows left, but I also have a phoenix egg slowly burning a hole in my bath mat.
Bugger.
- - -
I've been feeling a little under the weather lately (and not because I couldn't get the broom above the cloud layer), so have taken to having long, hot baths in an attempt to soothe my Man Flu™ symptoms. There's nothing nicer than laying in a hot bath with a good book (Wicked - thank you Dinah), a cup of coffee or glass of wine, pen & paper for those elusive Blog post ideas or shopping list items, mobile phone and a couple of scented candles flickering away gently.
Last night, I was just getting settled, slowly lowering myself into the practically boiling water a centimetre at a time to avoid scalding shock while reaching for the box of matches to light the candles. My toes brushed against the plug chain momentarily startling me. I slipped a couple of centimetres, flailing my arms to keep from submerging. My left elbow connected with the matchbox, swiping it into the bath.
By the time I'd fished it out, the matches were soaked. Utterly useless. How was I going to light my blackcurrant & mint candles now?
Unfortunately, the virus I'd caught had affected my memory - It was definitely the virus and not the three large glasses of wine I'd already had before getting in - I couldn't remember the simplest of ignition spells. A fireball was out of my mnemonic grasp. I toyed with the idea of Hesprat's Incomparable Conflagration Hex but rejected it. Last time I used it half a village was barbecued. And not very well at that. The villagers were charred and blackened on the outside but still bloody and raw in the middle. Totally inedible.
The only thing left in my depleted memory was Arcrite's Summon The Phoenix. Oh well. It'd have to do. Making the necessary hand movements and mouthing the appropriate words, I completed the manoeuver. The phoenix started to materialise on the edge of the bath right where the bottles of body wash and bath foam were!
I hurridly grabbed the bottles with my wet hands as the bird solidified. Unfortunately, I gripped the body wash too firmly and it slipped out of my grasp, shooting upwards. I watched in slowmotion, open mouthed horror as the bottle connected with the phoenix's head, knocking it for six.
It exploded into a raging inferno right in front of me!
- - -
So, not only do I have no eyebrows left, but I also have a phoenix egg slowly burning a hole in my bath mat.
Bugger.
Sunday, 1 October 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)