sean connery as james bond. i used to like him a whole lot. in fact, when i was in edinburgh back in 2000, i walked around the whole city and stood in front of a door that they claimed was his house and said in a heavy whisper (to myself, was alone) 'sean connery's house' Of course later, i saw the saturday night live segment wherein he is represented saying 'famous titties' in his characteristic slurring speech and laughed my guts out and did not think of him with that awed, half-whispering type tone anymore. human being, after all. not a god. (after watching The Rock so many times - dont blame me, alongside Conair and The hunt for red october, its a favourite of Mr.DeathGripOnRemote also known as my husband).
whats up ladies and gents?
have no idea what i am talking about? thats fine, thats fine, dont worry. its just words, flowing out like endless rain.
one time when dad was ill with some spitting type infection of the throat, the doc said, just have a few cups to spit into so you dont have to get up and go to the (wet) bathroom every single time and tire yourself out. so we asked my cousin, the big hairy bear of a cousin of mine, to go get some paper cups from the little ice cream store nearby (which occasionally had ice cream to sell; but definitely cups in plenty). he came back with about 200 of them, which was fun for me because i was thinking up craft possibilities with paper cups. but mum was damn irritated. what a waste! of money! of paper! she went on for a bit. yeah well, i agree with her now. no one needs 200 paper cups for spitting phlegm. this incident is often referred to in family lore as 'the ice cream paper cup incident'
i have had a lot of phlegm. thankfully, i am not recovering from an open heart surgery (as dad was, at that time of contracting aforementioned infection and sending all of us into a tizzy of worry). so i walk over and pukingly spit into the wash basin in the bathroom. this causes much mirth to the monster. in fact, our leading argument in the past six days has been on the matter of phlegm and spitting. she prefers to make a face and swallow. i spit it out and rinse my mouth with some water. she thinks i am disgusting, i think she is disgusting. and also, incidentally, there is a salty taste in my mouth that has nothing to do with the foods i have been able to eat.
and donald duck. ought to be shot. i mean, i know he is not real. and that he is banned in Finland because he does not wear pants. but please, his voice! i used to like him well enough as a child. a silly sort of duck with cute nephews and that annoying uncle of his. well. and i liked gyro gearloose a lot (what a geek i am!). but the monster has found these clips of the damned duck on youtube some place and insists its super funny and i should watch it. i swear, its the most annoying thing ever. i cannot believe i ever thought chip and dale were cute. squeaky irritants. but better than that damned duck. for sure.
so thats an update of sorts. read a lot of books. mostly, re-read. found many new gems hidden inside the stories that Mr.McCallSmith churns out for me. Wondered if Murakami was going to hit some type of Naipaul-ish big league soon. Considered this and that. Made a bunch of .ppts (black background, white and yellow text). Tracked changes on various students documents and felt proud of myself (!) for my incisive inputs. Got pained with life. Got un-pained with life. Lost, and then gained equilibrium. and now i skip back to my other screen for some text editing.
bye bye for anon, good folk.