youngraven: Ah, I've had better days, me. (Drownt rat)

...that made me want back the time spent in dreaming it.

I dreamt I was awake in my flat. Wandering about it, Doing Flat Things, when suddenly...Dhera!! A Scorpion!!11 EEEEK!111

Ambling down the wall was a smallish scorpion. I could see its nasty stinger, poised above its body and waiting to do something or somebody a painful, itchy mischief. 

Must kill. I have, after all, a cat who eats bugs.

So. I've got this thingummy. It's a buggy killy thingummy that looks a bit like a tennis racquet, only when one presses two buttons, the wires that go across the racquet-looking part become electrified (don't touch it - Arterburn found this out the hard way. Seriously.). Zap. Hrm...henceforth, to be referred to as the 'kill-o-zap'. Not my concept, but it's faster to type than 'buggy killy thingummy'.  

Only I couldn't use the kill-o-zap, right? 'Cos Scorpions! Jump! Truth be told? I don't know whether they jump, cha-cha, or fling themselves from trebuchets, but in the dream, I was certain. Scorpions jump, and the kill-o-zap required too much of an uneasy proximity.

So I sprayed it to death with foaming rug cleaner. Then I had round a 'team of experts' (to include but not be limited to my dad and my uncle Leonard) to confirm it was dead.

'Cos, sure, I wasn't going to poke it with something. I could bleed out. And die.

Somehow, the flat...became something of a partitioned off area in a warehousey thing. I was looking for the landlord in order to have a chat about there being a scorpion when I looked up to the ceiling only to see Thousands of Scorpions scarpering out of an opening. Soon afterwards, a pair of black gloved hands and a hard-hatted ginger head appeared.

As the fellow lobbed a brown-paper-wrapped parcel towards the ground, I shouted at him Oi! Thanks for the Fucking Scorpions! and then I promptly awoke.

And the moral to this story is...

Seriously

Sep. 18th, 2009 11:29 am
youngraven: (Default)

Dear Gallant Knight,

I understand that your mother brought you up to be a chivalrous sort of chap, and I'm sure she lessoned you in always opening a door for a lady (never you mind what I think of that). However. Lingering in the doorway, and then blocking half of said doorway so that the lady in question has to undulate round you to accept your proffered opened door rather makes you less of a gentleman and a bit more of a buffoon. I'm glad I didn't have to duck beneath your arm, 'cos matey, it could well have come to that.

The next time you feel so moved, stop and think to yourself 'hrm...might my actions result in an uncomfortable proximity?' If the conclusion to which you come is 'yes', then perhaps you might think better of it. I mean, you'd never drape your mac across a mud puddle that concealled rather a deep pit in order to save a woman sullying up her shoes, would you? 

Seriously, would you?

Awkwardly yours, 
Gypsy
youngraven: (bunnies)
...bacon is the new It Flavour.

The conversation in question happened at Starplex as we were collecting our beer for the Santana concert (more about that later if I can be arsed to write it), and it went a bit like this (bear with me, it's been a little while):

Steve: ...chicken-fried BACON!
Me: ...yer wha--? BLEH!
Steve: It's going to be all the rage at the State Fair this year.
Candy: (knowingly) Bacon is a very popular flavour at the moment - it's in everything, bacon vodka...
Me: (blink) Bacon vodka...for your...pork-n-beans martini?!

Well, today I found this in a friend's journal.

Candy was right. It's in everything. Soon, the tyres of our cars will even be wrought of it. The answer to the energy crisis? Pure, clean-burning bacon. It's in all of the best houses - in fact, it is all of the best houses. Bacon - it's delicious and makes for a fine surf board.
youngraven: (Default)
Two things that cannot be checked onto an aeroplane at United's 'Easy Check Kiosk':

- Christmas trees
- Antlers

And now we all know.

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