(no subject)
Well, we didn't have to go to the Pig Show thing, thank God. I only like pigs if they are used to eat up human remains, and then only if they are in the care of a Chinese dude whose knowledge of the English language consists solely of the word "cocksucker".
So we went to York instead and walked around the National Railway Museum for about a hundred and forty years (I am totally not kidding, I'm pretty sure I died of old age twice while I was in there) and then we went "shopping," which pretty much means Mama Froodle dragged me around these ludicrously expensive and for the most part entirely ugly clothing stores and wittered at me about getting "a nice pair of flatties" and "some glamorous tops" - I should note at this point that to my mother, glamour equates to shoulder pads and sequins - and Papa Froodle jibbed on about getting me a digital camera, while I tried in vain to point out that books and DVDs and nice things from Lush, or, if we're talking big-ticket items, a sofa that is not held together with scotch tape and the Will of God, would be much more welcome.
Dudes, do anyone elses parents do that? Like, totally ignore what you actually want and what would actually be useful to you, and buy you random shit because they think you should want it, even after you've explained that you don't and in fact, have no use for it? Is this a normal parental thing or are my folks total freaks?
Anyway, we went to ASK for lunch, which was nice, although they felt compelled to lecture the waiter about how much better the Isle of Man is than England (LIE!) and then to Betty's for tea, and I got some China Rose Petal tea in a tin which was awesome, and then we came home.
In a little bit I might go and wash my face and then see if I feel like going to see the new Harry Potter movie - I kind of actually don't care at all about Harry Potter now, but the Froodle Brothers have abandoned me to go sky-diving and I fear the alternative is an evening with the parental units trying to explain that no, "I would like to watch Battlestar Galactica in peace" is not code for "Feel free to change the channel to that stupid cycling thing," failing, and then shoving them off the balcony in a fit of temper.
So we went to York instead and walked around the National Railway Museum for about a hundred and forty years (I am totally not kidding, I'm pretty sure I died of old age twice while I was in there) and then we went "shopping," which pretty much means Mama Froodle dragged me around these ludicrously expensive and for the most part entirely ugly clothing stores and wittered at me about getting "a nice pair of flatties" and "some glamorous tops" - I should note at this point that to my mother, glamour equates to shoulder pads and sequins - and Papa Froodle jibbed on about getting me a digital camera, while I tried in vain to point out that books and DVDs and nice things from Lush, or, if we're talking big-ticket items, a sofa that is not held together with scotch tape and the Will of God, would be much more welcome.
Dudes, do anyone elses parents do that? Like, totally ignore what you actually want and what would actually be useful to you, and buy you random shit because they think you should want it, even after you've explained that you don't and in fact, have no use for it? Is this a normal parental thing or are my folks total freaks?
Anyway, we went to ASK for lunch, which was nice, although they felt compelled to lecture the waiter about how much better the Isle of Man is than England (LIE!) and then to Betty's for tea, and I got some China Rose Petal tea in a tin which was awesome, and then we came home.
In a little bit I might go and wash my face and then see if I feel like going to see the new Harry Potter movie - I kind of actually don't care at all about Harry Potter now, but the Froodle Brothers have abandoned me to go sky-diving and I fear the alternative is an evening with the parental units trying to explain that no, "I would like to watch Battlestar Galactica in peace" is not code for "Feel free to change the channel to that stupid cycling thing," failing, and then shoving them off the balcony in a fit of temper.