Ap(parent)ly Mummy’s suffering from blogrivation so I hafta cough up a blog (haarf kuh kuh kuh haaarff) before now. But it’s only now, now, so it will have to be now, which will promptly turn into later. I’ve been told time is arbitrary, but I think time is a steely eyed bitch who gets ever grumpier; there’s nothing arbitrary about that, looks like a logarithmic curve to me. Anyway. Very nice congregational dinner last night. A bob of the bowler (nearly wrote blower, which would have been a very funny typo indeed) to Véronique for being the mistress of ceremonials and (this line deleted in 2019) (and a bowler bob to Carmen, the lucky woman who sleeps next to her), resplendently dressed in a tux. A big and public raspberry to that husband of mine who went into the dessert room, loaded five f*cking desserts onto his plate, ate them all WHILE Véronique was saying don’t eat dessert yet and then BITCHED FOR THE REST OF THE EVENING about how he ate too much. Ha f*cking ha. For ONCE I neither ate nor drank too much and YES I DID FOLLOW PAUL into the dessert room, but I grabbed SLIVERS of (okay, too wet to be slivers, what is the right word? Smidgens? Dollops?) two types tiramisu. And when the announcement came don’t eat dessert I tossed a paper napkin over my GROSS SOCIAL SOLECISM and ignored it until I got the okay. Damn but it was good. A big round of applause for the meal, which was a potluck, and really really really good. Whoever made those little meatballs, thank you three times. And the scalloped taters were AWESOME. I noticed my beef stew all got et. I had the sense to bring the last of Keith’s breadmaker bread and butter and salt and pepper as WELL as the Teapot I was originally requested to bring…. I think I behaved reasonably well and I had a good time. Oh, and thank you Bob for bringing the alcohol. It’s not the same as getting drunk around a campfire but it warmed certain areas nicely.
Let us pause indeed, Rev Katie! (Rev Katie held up a stuffed bunny rabbit to assist her in saying let us PAWS in our deliberations)….many and tuneful were the groans that filled the room.
Like a complete, self centered idiot, I hung out with the jr youth today and asked them to tell their favourite dreams rather than do anything like … you know… curriculum. Then we had a lively discussion of our favourite theme park rides and *then* I tried out my new routine on makeup on my unsuspecting victims. I have to admit that I thought it was pretty funny at the time I wrote it but their appreciation was quite unfeigned, and my mother liked it too. After I premiere the routines I’ve written I’ll post them.
I am now working on a routine called why my sex life is better than yours, mostly because while I can’t guarantee my sex life is better than yours, the fact I complain about it less is instructive, and besides, EVERY SINGLE F{CKING FEMALE COMIC – except Watermelon who likely has neither time nor reason to complain – who got on the stage the other night, complained about her sex life. Now I don’t know about you, but if I’m trolling for new lovers, I am NOT going to complain about my sex life. I am going to make it sound like the single best place in the universe is within reach of me. Or at least I’m going to hint, intimate (in both senses of the word) and otherwise suggest that I am enthusiastic, inventive and skilled. I am going to suggest that I stay on good terms with people I’ve slept with and don’t hold it against people (in both senses of the words) who have said no if I propositioned them. I was going to say people who have had the bad judgement to say no, but John says that’s just plain arrogant. Whaaaatever. Anyway I feel a compassion which cannot be measured for anybody who would rather be pitied by strangers than worshipped by lovers; girls, do yourself a favour and whine about something else. As John says, what you whine about is what you’ll put up with. If you don’t put up with it, you say, F*ck ya, and then you don’t have to complain about it! Yeehaw.
What was I thinking. Writing like a fool, church okay, dinner okay, oh THAT’S right I popped into the Shiloh church after service because Peggy, may the saints and angels take her in their particular care, VOLUNTEERED to help me do the childcare after the service for the parent meeting and there is NO WAY I could have done it without her, because while the kids were reasonably well behaved there were too many for me to deal with, which meant that Tom left without her, which meant she needed a ride home, which is right around the corner from the church so we poked our heads in, saw the car and realized Tom was still there and then we got a very abbreviated tour, the details of which I may not reveal except to say DON’T DO IT WILE E COYOTE! This is the Acme version of a church.
Then went shopping in my matrix coat. Sigh. I love the effect it has.
Daughter Katie is downstairs being very quiet with her friend Scott. Matt seems to have evaporated, or done that weird phase change that people do when they act like they like you very briefly and then act very clearly as if they do not. I suppose I could go bust the door in but that would be prurient, rude, and probably not turn up anything interesting anyway. Gotta phone Paul and see when he wants me to come get him. Another weekend shot. Ah well.
