October 13, 2007

No, she's not my brother's little one - that individual is still waiting, a little like his or her father, to shout abracadabra at some stage very, very soon. And knowing my luck, about 11pm tonight. But hey.

No, this is Amelie, my friend Charlie's newly born girl, who fought her way onto Planet Earth a week ago on Friday.

Cute, eh?

I must remember to ask Charlie if she removed her... hmmm, maybe now's not the right time.

x

October 13, 2007

It's a true sign of addiction when the thing you want most, the thing you need because you think it'll make you happy, or better, or, if anything, just plain different than how you're feeling now, is the very thing you never want to see again.

So, get thee behind me, Facebook.

Evil unpersonified.

October 13, 2007

I never listen to voicemail on precisely the same grounds that I don't respond to texts that say "call me", but because I also never read the manuals to my phones and also cannot stand listening to automated services, I have no idea how to turn the bloody thing off, either.

This morning, though, there was a missed call number I didn't recognise. And a voicemail left.

Curiousity, always my downfall, then picked up a blunt knife and set out in search of dangerous terrority.

I deleted the outstanding 19 messages before it, and pressed "play".

And then I hear a delightful conversation which is all about me, taking place between persons who, for a brief and hungover and frankly disturbing moment, were unknown.

Then I called the number, spoke to a stranger, who seemed more than pleasant, and all was explained.

Then I listened to the message again. And again. And again. And again.

And then I realised how a small stone like me still casts ripples that seemingly go on and on.

It was a recording of a conference call of which my voicemail bank had apparently been a member.

Not nice - really not nice, and surprising, really, considering the participants.

Hell hath, and all that. If, indeed, that had been the case, which it wasn't.

Still.

I live, as always, in interesting times.

And I definitely won't be listening to voicemails again.

October 13, 207

Retrocopulation, noun
Woof

"So, er, basically, we're talking doggy style, aren't we?" asked Nipper, shuffling in an unsure manner from one unclipped talon to the other.

"No," said Zeds. "For God's sake. It's just shagging, seventies style."