Wednesday, February 24, 2010

I don't like teenagers



I went to Matt and Ruth's wedding (nice do) on the weekend. At about 10.30pm, the wine was flowing and people were in a good mood. Unfortunately, I had to leave as the mothership had arrived to pick me up. I went to get my bag, and do to so had to climb around two teens sitting close on a step looking like they'd love to be more intimate but were constrained by guests and their official roles as bar keep and waitress.

As I climbed over them, I said 'Excuse me, canoodlers, I have to get my bag.'
As I climbed back past, the teenage boy decided it was high time he showed his smarts and masculinity, and said 'That's not even a real word. Haven't you heard of the Oxford dictionary?'
Cue tittering from the teenage girl and smirking from the boy.

It was like like I was Marty McFly in Back to the Future and someone had called me chicken. He pulled out Oxford! I saw red. Fueled by at least half a bottle of champagne, I turned around and stalked back to them (stalking was easy, it was a lawn and I was wearing pointy heeled shoes).

I said 'Young man, I am an EDITOR. And it is too a word.' (Slightly childish response there, considering canoodlers is not a work, but fucking teenagers need to be put in their place.)

He said 'Harrumph, sheesh.'
The girl said 'I told you it was a word'.

I sailed off over the lawn on the high seas of smugness.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Ups to me because I give the awards

Have I mentioned how much I like aioli? Because I like it. Are you allowed to eat it with a spoon? Do I care? It is the savoury equivalent of chocolate sauce. Maybe I wouldn’t smear it all over myself in order for some lucky victim to lick it off but that’s mostly because I’d see that as a massive waste of aioli. Same goes for chocolate sauce.

Other food-related points – I quite often fail to see the point of cucumber.

So, the bigger Whitson came to stay and it was all magical, like we were living in the enchanted forest and any moment now we’d come across the magic faraway tree and discover that at the top of the tree was The Land of Take What you Want and we’d just go nuts and come home with ponies and candy floss and ovens that produce cookies whenever you clap your hands.

Nic brought me a belated Christmas present, which was lovely, except I didn’t have anything for him because we’d said NO PRESENTS. Anyway, he gave me a bottle of Cougar bourbon and told me to drink it with Jess and act appropriately. We drank the bourbon but failed miserably to pounce on any very young men. Maybe next time – we were a bit distracted by Sorority Boys – men in drag make us swoon.

Yes, I have a Jessa in my arms. It’s very nice. She smells good. Probably because she washes her hair.

We also had the fleetingness of a Justin. He was here for ages but, well, you know Justin. He’s very hard to catch. He’s the sort of person for whom those gladiator nets were invented.

Three weeks left of work, hurrah. This whole working ‘thing’ is killing me. Yes, yes, it’s a nice job, but unemployment elsewhere shimmies enticingly in front of me, and by jingo, I’m going to get my aioli-smeared hands all over that stuff.

We had cats for the weekend. They liked my room the best and peed on my bed. I wish they'd liked Oren's the best. He's back from Israel and he's allergic to cats. It would have been hilarious. For me.

He brought us chocolate. We left it in the sun. It's still tasty.