500 Miles …

… just to be the man who walks a thousand miles to fall down at your door

Where The Proclaimers Are Prepared To Walk To

Where The Proclaimers Are Prepared To Walk To

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A soothing novel in twelve short paragraphs …

“It was summer, and it was hot. Rachel was there. A lonely old grey couch. And the kingdom was theirs forever, the end!”.

Another Sunday night in, another night of remembering lines from F.R.I.E.N.D.S.  Lines I’ve known since forever, lines I probably know a little too well.  Most of my internal dialogue derives from pop culture. It’s the greatest thing, to know that film and television shape your thoughts to the point where you don’t know what’s original and what’s something you’ve heard before.

Jack Johnson is on the stereo. Another thing I’ve been listening to since forever. My appreciation of him is really just as much about his music as it is about the fact that I just think he’d be a really cool person to be friends with.  And he seems so chilled out.  And despite being around for ages, he hasn’t really done anything celebrity-ish like star in a reality show, release a line of cologne, date a supermodel or start a twitter rant about another artists.  Cudos, Jacko, for not being a f**kwit.

When I’m done here, I’m going to watch an episode of Doctor Who with husband. He’s the only person I know who loves it with all his heart and soul. And he’s not even British. And now watching it puts me in a good mood, because it means if I’m watching it, then I am relaxing and sharing in his nerdiness. Not even sharing in it, but actively allowing it.  Like I’m not a nerd myself.  I read somewhere once that “nerds will rule the world”.  I am a massive nerd and I don’t rule a thing.

Fifth paragraph

Sixth paragraph

Seventh paragraph

Eighth paragraph

Ninth paragraph

Tenth paragraph

Eleventh paragraph

Twelfth paragraph

This post was a writer’s block exercise called “Write a soothing novel in twelve short paragraphs” taken from Language is a Virus, and I swear I can’t make it to 12 paragraphs right now.

My ovaries exploded

I’m not a die-hard fan of Bruno Mars. I’m not “in the red zone”, so to speak. And I’m not even pregnant. But this, ohhh lord, this clip!

See, some people need a sugar hit in the afternoon, but this is my sugar this afternoon. Check the expression on this kid’s face! Well done to Ellen for not cracking up laughing during his little performance!

I think the ole braineroo needs a bit of a push …

Am attempting, with all my heart and soul, to finish off some work. But words are not flowing from my chocolate-drenched noggin right now. So here I am. Procrastinating online.  Lucky I haven’t checked Facebook in a while.  That could possibly end me for tonight.

Ok, not all my heart and soul.  Some of it.  The majority of it.  The parts that I need to complete my task.  So I can go watch Back to the Future with the boy and then a little Craig Ferguson and then go to bed.

Aaaaand then earlier today I downloaded Viber and Whatsapp onto my iPhone.  Now I feel like the time will soon be upon us (us, or just me?) where I will no longer need to utter words to people to communicate and have meaningful relationships, I will simply send them text messages and they will never hear my voice. EVER.

I recently read somewhere that procrastination is like a credit card. It’s lots of fun untill you get the bill. And by “recently” I mean less than 5 minutes ago. And by “somewhere”, I mean I googled it. Just then. Just then I googled it.