"! they already smooched on stage!"
during my recent trip to the mothership (edinburgh) perpetual nuisance and junior sibling tardington was forced to borrow asked for a loan of my HCL dvd. last night he settled in to watch it with lady tardington. i know this because the viewing was accompanied by a barrage of text-message updates on the action and opinions about every aspect of the film, from the film stock to the background scenery.
he got as far as the LSD sequence* before he was ordered to put the tv off and go to bed, so i'm not sure what his final opinion will be. he liked it so far, he wants to cycle the trans-canada highway, he characterised pipe as "the hairy one", he didn't see any homoerotic subtext as it was insufficiently sub-texty ("blatant!") but, of course, as i cannot resist rising to the bait, he has now spent half of monday texting me cruel and insulting messages about hugh dillon on the grounds that he amuses himself very much. he called joe "the fat one"! what was i to do other than respond? how could i have guessed this would just encourage him? (ok, the fact that it always does: possibly a clue i should take note of. curses.) *looks woeful* i omit my replies below because they're all pretty much the same - leave me alone! aaaaaaah! and lies!
tardington Perhaps he's just 'horizontally enhanced'?
tardington Morphologically predisposed for hibernation!
tardington Gasp! Is Callum a 'feeder'?
tardington Oh Huuuugh! Daddy's brought you some apple piieee!
i am related to this monster. feel my pain!
*altogether now: shiny. tight. pants. (or, if you're c_regalis, frilly. shirt. nnnrgh.)
in other news, i've noticed a worrying tendency when i cycle home from work. i used to randomly choose one of three streets that turn off the main road near my house - they all sort of converge so whichever you pick makes no difference. but recently, i've been neglecting rochester street (hello, mr.) and delaware street (unexciting US state?) in favour of - *sigh* - toronto street. i think my subconscious mind deserves a medal for actually being sadder than i am when i'm thinking about it.
he got as far as the LSD sequence* before he was ordered to put the tv off and go to bed, so i'm not sure what his final opinion will be. he liked it so far, he wants to cycle the trans-canada highway, he characterised pipe as "the hairy one", he didn't see any homoerotic subtext as it was insufficiently sub-texty ("blatant!") but, of course, as i cannot resist rising to the bait, he has now spent half of monday texting me cruel and insulting messages about hugh dillon on the grounds that he amuses himself very much. he called joe "the fat one"! what was i to do other than respond? how could i have guessed this would just encourage him? (ok, the fact that it always does: possibly a clue i should take note of. curses.) *looks woeful* i omit my replies below because they're all pretty much the same - leave me alone! aaaaaaah! and lies!
tardington Perhaps he's just 'horizontally enhanced'?
tardington Morphologically predisposed for hibernation!
tardington Gasp! Is Callum a 'feeder'?
tardington Oh Huuuugh! Daddy's brought you some apple piieee!
i am related to this monster. feel my pain!
*altogether now: shiny. tight. pants. (or, if you're c_regalis, frilly. shirt. nnnrgh.)
in other news, i've noticed a worrying tendency when i cycle home from work. i used to randomly choose one of three streets that turn off the main road near my house - they all sort of converge so whichever you pick makes no difference. but recently, i've been neglecting rochester street (hello, mr.) and delaware street (unexciting US state?) in favour of - *sigh* - toronto street. i think my subconscious mind deserves a medal for actually being sadder than i am when i'm thinking about it.