I just laughed out loud at this. That hesitating move of the black car closest to the hole and the other asshole cars not moving to let it get away. “Look, guys, I’m really sorry, but could you guys, like move a bit, so I don’t end up in the big sinkhole that is opening up next to me? No? Ok I guess I’ll just inch a bit closer to you…”
Horrified stone on the beach. Or is it a happy face? I’m going for a grin of terror.
In the latest episode of Fresh Meat, Howard was preparing to fight another man. He got the advice that a fight is more than just physical strength and that he could gain the upper hand by asking his opponent something really random and confusing, and by doing so catching them off guard. When I saw the episode, I thought nothing of it, but little did I know that the advice would be useful to me a few hours later. It was yesterday morning and I had somehow gotten involved in a tickling fight; it’s possible that I may have started it. Tom makes the most ridiculous and disturbing sound a man can make while being tickled, and I regret that I wasn’t able to record it at the time. It sounds something like “Nyyya! nyyya! nyyyahhahah!” but in one octave higher than his usual speaking voice. It wouldn’t be so weird if he did it on purpose, which I thought was the case at first, but I believe that’s just the way he unintentionally laughs when being tickled. W.T.F. It’s about as disturbing as Jimmy Carr’s laughter (“It sounds a bit like a seal being molested”, if you don’t know what I’m talking about, check it out here).
Anyhow, he has the advantage of being both stronger and heavier than me, so I ended up being pinned down. After like 5 minutes of trying to wriggle, claw and headbutt my way free, I almost accepted my fate. Then suddenly I thought of what Howard had done… and said “Do you know why your eye color is slightly different when you see them in the mirror?” BAM! I’m not entirely sure how I did it, but during that moment of confusion I managed to catch him off-guard and push him onto his back and place my knees on his arms. Soooo proud of myself!
Hoo-kay… I had a really messed up dream last night. I’m a woman and I contain a uterus, so it’s kind of a given that every once in a while I dream that I’m pregnant or that I have a baby. I figure it’s something most women dream about occasionally: getting knocked up and not wanting the baby, getting knocked up and really wanting a baby, or not being able to have a baby despite really wanting one. This whole having-or-not-having children thing is a pretty big deal to most people so it makes sense that it pops up in your head sometimes when sleeping. I’m going to guess that no one has had the exact same dream that I had last night though.
I dreamed that I was in my flat in England when I got a phone call from mum telling me to come to a hospital in Sweden because my baby was born. I go to Sweden and meet my mum and my sister at the hospital. My mum says I gave birth there yesterday and the infant is the size of a fat two-year old. I am confused, because I haven’t been pregnant and I’ve been in England the whole time, and I have no recollection of giving birth or anything. Then mum starts saying something about that a version of me gave birth to the huge infant. I take care of the infant for a while, but I realize more and more that this doesn’t make any sense, so I go to mum and my sister and look at them with a serious expression and says: “Somehow, another version of me was created, went back in time and got knocked up and then gave birth and then plopped out of existence. Don’t you think that’s a little bit weird?” Both my mum and my sister looked at me with a puzzled expression and then replied “No, not at all”, despite that for this entire theory to be possible the space-time-continuum must have had a pretty epic hiccup and that I was now expected to care for an infant that was basically a abomination of all physics.
By that point I just decided “Fuck this, I must be dreaming” and turned and walked away.
Just what? I swear to God someone is doping me with LSD when I’m sleeping.
I received a birthday card in the mail addressed to “Misc Johanna”. Now, I’m new to the UK and a little unused to using titles, but I think the only logical explanation is that if you aren’t married and you aren’t enough of a lady to be referred to as “Miss” you get to be Miscellaneous instead. If not, I suggest that this should be the new system. From here on I will only be referred to as Misc. Johanna.
OK, it was probably just an innocent typo on behalf of the sender. I think it’s funny to send people nice things in a package and then decorate the outside of the package with something embarrassing or write a weird nickname for the recipient on the address lines. A couple of months ago I sent some nice chocolate addressed to a Mr Tom “Hairybum” Surname and got called disrespectful by the postman who delivered the package. I like to think my message in doing this is: “I’ll send you nice things, but to show that you want it bad enough you will have to go through shame and embarrassment to collect it”.
In the summer of 2011, I went on a vacation to Crete. Tom was stuck in England and nagged me to send him a souvenir, so I went hunting for the tackiest thing I could find. I ended up settling for a wooden penis bottle opener, which was pretty difficult to ship. Satisfied with Tom’s reaction once he received the gift and silently smug that he now was stuck with a wooden penis bottle opener in his kitchen, I forgot about it for a couple of years.
Fast-forward to today. We’ve moved in together and I have realized that sending Tom a load of random items backfired on me, since he never throws anything away and now I’m stuck living with them too. So today we were setting up a magnetic knife rack to get some space in the kitchen. Furthest back in the kitchen drawer lurked the chunky, wooden dong. It has now made a splendid comeback, proudly attached to the magnetic knife rack. The worst part is that it’s a really crap bottle opener. 
poisoningpigeons 