had a lovely evening yesterday. went out for a meal with hubby, then went to see Mike Harding. good food, excellent company, and good, folky entertainment, even though i had heard at least 50% of the jokes before. we still laughed.
and that’s all you’re getting. not because i don’t want to share, simply because… well… why on earth would you care to hear the minutiae of a date between two people who’ve been together for over 15 years? it’s not anything that will excite anyone who wasn’t there, and H and i already know all about it because, y’know, we *were* there…
…christ, i could murder a cigarette right now. 😦 …
…where was i? oh, yes. it was boringly domestic in that polished-by-the-passage-of-years kind of way, which brings a warm glow to things. we talked about the new warehouse at H’s work (actually more interesting than it sounds), i told him about the colleague who had snapped, “Toni, will you shut up!” at me whilst i was clearing my desk before leaving work to meet him, and happily humming/whistling/singing (this woman is a miserable old trout who i believe i annoy intensely by simply being cheerful *evil grin*). i had to ask the waitress for some ice after H whacked my knuckle a little too hard with a spoon. …er… this happens often in restaurants. the cutlery-fencing, that is, not the injury. i’m usually quicker than that, and unashamedly take advantage of his gentlemanly instincts (i.e. i’m a viscious little cow who cheats).
you can’t take us anywhere…
the joke i laughed hardest at during Mike Harding’s show was one involving a prostate examination and an errant surgical glove. this should probably give you and insight into my sense of humour…
***
today, i had a brief visit from The Black Dog. fucking universal checks and balances? in this, The Cosmos can kiss my arse. honestly, i had enough of this fucking shit as a teenager. it’s not bad enough to medicate, but it’s bad enough to make me feel like the lowest fucking grease-stain left by the oiliest turd laid by the sleaziest politician that ever licked Peter Mandelsen’s diseased and soulless arse.
self-esteem? what fucking self-esteem?
sample tweet/thought:
selfish, self-absorbed, vain, cowardly, shallow… Yep. Oh, and don’t forget lazy. #blackdog
though i *did* forgot to add self-indulgent. because, you see, that’s exactly what it is. as is this post.
(please ignore me, BTW – i just need to vent, for a moment)
i have nothing that merits the whining. i’m extraordinarily lucky. i live comfortably. i don’t loathe my job – quite like it, actually. i have a husband who loves me, despite the fact that i must be incredibly difficult to live with and find it stupidly easy to hurt him by accident (oops – forgot insensitive), yadda, yadda, yadda. my only problem is, in fact, my own personality. well yay me!
ach, fuck it.
vent over. “Lippy Kids” by Elbow is on the radio, and the cat’s come to cuddle and purr at me.
life’s pretty good.
🙂