It all happens so fast
This morning I overslept by 7 minutes, meaning that my carefully planned out system was severely out of synch, so I had to feed the cat while brushing my teeth while dry blowing my hair while putting my boots on, and that wasn’t zen at all. The whole day went accordingly; after the sadistic car driver and puddle incident, there was me trying to multi task, all Goddess Shiva-like in the face of adversity, all the while remaining approachable and responsible and helpful and patient and NICE, GODDAMNIT. (Breathe. Ok. Now take yourself out for coffee and just watch the people walk past, that’ll soothe you.) Right, I said to myself, if within the next 15 minutes you count more than 6 ponchos, you get a chocolate brownie. So I counted : 12 ponchos in varied colours, yay! as well as 8 pairs of stupidly high heels clearly very awkward to walk in, and only 3 of those velour trouser suits with ‘bling bling’ or ‘bitch’ written across the arse. (My advice: when looking to buy a velour trouser suit thing, just.. stop.) The winning combination of greasy bottle blond hooker hair, giant gold loop earrings and sportswear, a fine example of the tribal dress code of chavs, (the new ruling class of Britain) is not so common around my place of work; there are better places to score high on the chav stakes. Still, I was well entertained, and got a chocolate brownie.
Tomorrow, internet, friends, kind and possibly distant readers, mom, I might post pictures of what chavs look like, in case you feel the anthropologist stir within you and enquire. But for now I shall go and stand on my head as a way of relieving today’s tension; or maybe just re-read “The loved ones” by Evelyn Waugh. I finished watching series 2 of Six Feet under, and I miss the atmosphere of the funeral home. Thank you for stopping by.
Michel Simon dans un musée du sexe ?
4 years ago
4 comments:
Hey, that sounds like a good game!
Wait... hang on... maybe not. I'd be putting on a few stones if I tried that in a 'High Street' cafe!
Cyberesque
You could do it crumb by crumb - said the one with the high metabolism.
Purlese no pictures of Chavs we see enough of them on the street here in Sunny Plymouth, If people want to be disgusted send them to www.chavscum.com
And yes I have tried to cycle, but after getting knocked off three times (once breaking a collar bone) and being told me its my own fault by the drivers I gave up and no sit in traffic jams getting fatter and more irate by the minute!
I too hate the poncho fashion, where did that come from, surely we can blame Clint for this, he's too old. O and the bum thing too
I wish I could find the words to express the deep satisfaction I felt at finding out that there was such a word as 'chav'. It always takes me a while to catch up on new lingo, I'm a bit slow that way, and I clearly don't watch enough tv. Chav; the sheer beauty of it! Of course, now I hesitate before calling my cat Chavo. Oh well.
Rob, what about in-line skating?
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