A virus with shoes

There are three school boys who go part of the same way as me on my way into work in the morning and I’m finding them more and more amusing. 

They’re proper little Glasgae lads; around 11 years old, wearing as much sports wear as they can get away with under the school rules. And they’re loud and they’re boisterous and they’ve got their hair cropped short ‘intae the wood’ apart from the tallest who has a proto-mohawk-come-flattop thing going on.

And they’re complete, total slashtastic little drama queens.

Example: Boy 1 and boy 2 (who have emerged as the bff’s of the trio over time) are today scuffling and wrestling with each other. Boy 1 gets boy 2 into a headlock and exclaims “Aye! Who’s the daddy, bitch!” Boy 2 tells him (slightly muffled) to ‘get tae fuck’ and boy 1 begins knuckling his head. 

Boy 3? Gives a huge, put upon sigh and asks immensely wearily
“Will youse two just shag already? The tension’s getting unbearable”

Oh, boys!! *draws sparkly heart around all three*
I am very tempted to tell them to look me up in 8 to 10 years if they ever need a fag-hag, the little darlings.

* * * 

And speaking in an entirely non-creepy and not-dubious-at-all way of children, my book groups text tonight was ‘Novel on Yellow Paper’ by Stevie Smith for my book group and while it’s wonderful (of course it is, it’s Stevie) this particular bit is so brilliant that I’m going to have to quote it at you.
“Prunella got the children right on to the right books. You know the stuff they slop out to the little B.B.C. brattery? So wide-eyed and daisy-sweet, and solemn-young and sweet sweet smell of childhood, as Medea said, the moment she jabbed the knife into the couple of them to spite Jason. But of course they were never married. My dear, that makes all the difference. Only an emotional careerist could have run off with a foreigner and – hang the wedding. And we all know what emotional careerists are like when there are knives left lying around.”

*GRIN*

* * *

Conversational segue on the tube I wish I'd been party to:
woman sitting down: "...because my mum was all set to marry my biological dad's second cousin but then he died of cancer..."
*tube starts up, conversation becomes inaudible due to noise, tube reaches next stop 1 minute later*
same woman: "...I'll eat Indian food at a restaurant but I don't like it as a takeaway..."

....?

I’m going to be getting myself a laptop after xmas and then I might actually be able to write and post stuff when I say I will.

The home computer I now use is actually mr oddegg’s and whilst it was perfect when all I wanted to do was send emails or look things up online every so often, now that I’ve shrugged off my Luddite shackles, embraced the technology revolution, tuned in, jacked up and, most importantly, started writing porn constantly, I really need to get a machine of my own.

Because somehow, “Sweetie, can I interrupt your very important video editing so I can write about men rimming each other” doesn’t meet with such a favourable response. Can’t think why.

**

And having decided on the new comp. I now feel I should probably ban myself from the internet for my own good.

I was hop-scotching my way around comic sites and on a comicbookresources forum came upon an old thread about how long you can stay awake (yeah, I’m not sure what it was doing there either) and there were people who were all ‘well, I need my 9 hours but I did once stay awake for a WHOLE 36 HOURS!!’ and my first two responses were, pretty simultaneously:

a) Cunts. Try 16 weeks of intermittent insomnia, bitch!

b) 36 hours. Pussy-ass motherfuckers. I was awake for a 40 hour stretch on Friday and still went out partying!!

But the one that worried me was the third, rather competitive response:

c) Hmmm. My personal ‘best’ was about 66 hours. I wonder if I could top that.

I then found myself actually thinking about testing how long I can do without sleep. Just out of curiosity.

Don’t think I should let my brain out without supervision anymore.

**

“I need my sleep. I do. I need 8 hours a day… and about 10 at night.”

Bill Hicks