Mr. Internet - What Do You Have To Say For Yourself?
Is it just me or is the internet going through a (dare I say it?) boring patch? I mean, lately I've been finding the real world far more entertaining... What on Earth is up with that?
On Tuesday I found catching the bus into the Railway Station slightly enjoyable. Okay, maybe it wasn't the trip itself, but the fluro green spray-painted "GAY SKINS TAKE IT UP THE ASS" which was sprawled across the median strip on Riddiford Street. It got me wondering about a couple of things for the rest of my trip. Things like:
Wednesday saw me getting lost in the Commerce library. You know, the one on the second floor of the Railway West Wing. The one with two rooms and a dozen books... I found myself asking someone how I could get out of there (and I think it could've even been the highlight of their morning). The best part? I was only in there because I arrived at campus well over an hour before my tutorial began.
In fact, I was almost an hour early on Tuesday too*.
On Thursday Nigel bought me food and hugged me (which tops the internet even on its best day), and Mum bought me a pen. She said it was a "Bitch Pen". She wasn't wearing her glasses when she saw it in the shop. Someone must have put the pen in the wrong box because when I started reading the phrases that pop around when you click the top she was both horrified and highly amused. Just so you can imagine your own mother's face when you read a gift she's just given you - here are the phrases from my "Pick Up Pen":
None of them are particularly original, but Mum hadn't heard them before.
I really want to know what was going across the shop-keeper's mind when she so happily and innocently trust it towards them and onto the counter.
*Did I mention that I get cranky and highly emotional when I'm tired? If I ever give the impression that it's hormones, it's not. But that's a good thing! You can make your life (and mine) a lot easier - just slip me a nice hot chocolate with powdered sleeping pills or something. Or if you don't want to get arrested, caffeine is always a good second choice.
On Tuesday I found catching the bus into the Railway Station slightly enjoyable. Okay, maybe it wasn't the trip itself, but the fluro green spray-painted "GAY SKINS TAKE IT UP THE ASS" which was sprawled across the median strip on Riddiford Street. It got me wondering about a couple of things for the rest of my trip. Things like:
- What does that mean? Is it a racial slur? If so, wouldn't it be much better to be a little more specific?
- Why green? Was it all the $2 had?
- What the heck do people do on Monday nights that I don't know about? Or is it a Newtown thing?
Wednesday saw me getting lost in the Commerce library. You know, the one on the second floor of the Railway West Wing. The one with two rooms and a dozen books... I found myself asking someone how I could get out of there (and I think it could've even been the highlight of their morning). The best part? I was only in there because I arrived at campus well over an hour before my tutorial began.
In fact, I was almost an hour early on Tuesday too*.
On Thursday Nigel bought me food and hugged me (which tops the internet even on its best day), and Mum bought me a pen. She said it was a "Bitch Pen". She wasn't wearing her glasses when she saw it in the shop. Someone must have put the pen in the wrong box because when I started reading the phrases that pop around when you click the top she was both horrified and highly amused. Just so you can imagine your own mother's face when you read a gift she's just given you - here are the phrases from my "Pick Up Pen":
- Nice legs, what time do they open?
- Screw me if I'm wrong, but haven't we met before?
- What big lips you have, they would definitely fit around my balls.
- Come over to my place and bring some friends because my face seats five.
- There's a party in your mouth and I'm coming.
- Can I stir your drink? Mind if I use my dick?
None of them are particularly original, but Mum hadn't heard them before.
I really want to know what was going across the shop-keeper's mind when she so happily and innocently trust it towards them and onto the counter.
*Did I mention that I get cranky and highly emotional when I'm tired? If I ever give the impression that it's hormones, it's not. But that's a good thing! You can make your life (and mine) a lot easier - just slip me a nice hot chocolate with powdered sleeping pills or something. Or if you don't want to get arrested, caffeine is always a good second choice.