mockturtle (hellblazer06) wrote,
mockturtle
hellblazer06

cough sneeze wheeze grizzle


Okay, beware, I'm writing this cold, live, ripped on flu meds, suffering under a dreadful dose of the flu (I think I just coughed up that lungful of seawater I swallowed when I was royally dumped and rolled in the surf in 1975) and labouring under the usual monthly miseries. Coherent I am not. Mucous Lass I am. Excuse me while I squeegee my PC screen again.

Anyways, bogged off early on Friday, leaving peoples in the lurch but I knew by 6 pm this lil pumpkin was going to go exorist city, ie much screaming, swearing and vomiting and I wanted to be in bed for that performance. Swallowed twice the recommended daily allowance of pain killers and swam blearily through bits of Stargate and Robson - which I taped and watched slightly more awake on Saturday afternoon. Saturday morning, whilst wallowing in Get Smart (and half dreaming that good ol Capt. Dick Winters was trying to round up Kaos), everybody decided to visit. I'm as sick as a dog, the builder is coming over, the washing machine has been moved into the loungeroom like some whitegoods altar because the laundry is about to be demolished and everyone decides to come over for the first time in months. I mean, really.

Not that I wasn't happy to see them. Drew et al were back from their adventures in China with many a tale, no photos (boo, hiss) and a Chinese Xmas ball for me. This is an old joke; mother had an ancient and tacky Xmas record circa 1960s and I used to think they were singing about Chinese Xmas balls, because all Xmas decorations came from China, afterall, but it was in fact Shining Xmas balls, and of course I'm never allowed to live that mondegreen down. No matter. I love my Chinese Xmas ball. Bro got the comedy gift, which I rather covet: a waving Chairman Mao watch that needs to be seen and experienced before one can appreciate its true specialness.

Then it was me languishing in front of the telly: Andromeda, X Files, etc, etc, etc. More Stargate on TV1, apparently (Children of the Gods, part 1).

Sunday. Friend rings and asks if I'm well enough to go out to the Spring Fair. Of course, I lie through my teeth, barely able to crawl to the phone. At this stage of my pariahdom I'd have gone out with two broken legs and cancer of the pancreas. She brings along her latest beau, who reminds me of several gentleman of my previous aquaintance, only not half as funny. Oh well, he thought he was and that was the main thing, I guess. I was very naughty but she knew full well I'd be mixing alchohol and mersyndols so, you know, caveat emptor. Much sampling of what passes for exotic fair in boonieville: coconuts, noodles, satay and wheatgrass shots which nobody was touching with a bargepole out here in Burger King central.

Much ethnic dancing including the highlight of the day for me, lithe half naked young gentlemen who twirled about on the grass for no immediately apparent reason. I got myself another mendhi (henna tattoo), as is de rigour at these little festivals, and we retired to a cafe (alas, no pubs worth setting foot in) in wicker chairs, fanning ourselves and nursing enormous ice teas, pretending to be crusty old colonials as seen in an Eastern (British frontier film) eg: "Did you hear, Poynesbury-Smythe was eaten by the beggars last week" to a background soundtrack of actual native drums until I was hushed in case the Britpackers heard - like I care what they think of my behaviour when I'm sitting a mere two blocks from where I was whelped. My hometown, I can be as I am, at least, everybody else seemed so alarming au natural. Especially in the park which is usually a nature reserve for derros anyway. :)

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<p>Okay, beware, I'm writing this cold, live, ripped on flu meds, suffering under a dreadful dose of the flu (I think I just coughed up that lungful of seawater I swallowed when I was royally dumped and rolled in the surf in 1975) and labouring under the usual monthly miseries. Coherent I am not. Mucous Lass I am. Excuse me while I squeegee my PC screen again.</p><p>Anyways, bogged off early on Friday, leaving peoples in the lurch but I knew by 6 pm this lil pumpkin was going to go exorist city, ie much screaming, swearing and vomiting and I wanted to be in bed for that performance. Swallowed twice the recommended daily allowance of pain killers and swam blearily through bits of <b>Stargate</b> and <b>Robson</b> - which I taped and watched slightly more awake on Saturday afternoon. Saturday morning, whilst wallowing in <b>Get Smart</b> (and half dreaming that good ol Capt. Dick Winters was trying to round up Kaos), everybody decided to visit. I'm as sick as a dog, the builder is coming over, the washing machine has been moved into the loungeroom like some whitegoods altar because the laundry is about to be demolished and everyone decides to come over for the first time in months. I mean, really.</p><p>Not that I wasn't happy to see them. Drew et al were back from their adventures in China with many a tale, no photos (boo, hiss) and a Chinese Xmas ball for me. This is an old joke; mother had an ancient and tacky Xmas record circa 1960s and I used to think they were singing about Chinese Xmas balls, because all Xmas decorations came from China, afterall, but it was in fact Shining Xmas balls, and of course I'm never allowed to live that mondegreen down. No matter. I love my Chinese Xmas ball. Bro got the comedy gift, which I rather covet: a waving Chairman Mao watch that needs to be seen and experienced before one can appreciate its true specialness.</p><p>Then it was me languishing in front of the telly: <b>Andromeda</b>, <b>X Files</b>, etc, etc, etc. More Stargate on TV1, apparently (Children of the Gods, part 1).</p><p>Sunday. Friend rings and asks if I'm well enough to go out to the Spring Fair. Of course, I lie through my teeth, barely able to crawl to the phone. At this stage of my pariahdom I'd have gone out with two broken legs and cancer of the pancreas. She brings along her latest beau, who reminds me of several gentleman of my previous aquaintance, only not half as funny. Oh well, he thought he was and that was the main thing, I guess. I was very naughty but she knew full well I'd be mixing alchohol and mersyndols so, you know, caveat emptor. Much sampling of what passes for exotic fair in boonieville: coconuts, noodles, satay and wheatgrass shots which nobody was touching with a bargepole out here in Burger King central.</p><p>Much ethnic dancing including the highlight of the day for me, lithe half naked young gentlemen who twirled about on the grass for no immediately apparent reason. I got myself another mendhi (henna tattoo), as is de rigour at these little festivals, and we retired to a cafe (alas, no pubs worth setting foot in) in wicker chairs, fanning ourselves and nursing enormous ice teas, pretending to be crusty old colonials as seen in an Eastern (British frontier film) eg: "Did you hear, Poynesbury-Smythe was eaten by the beggars last week" to a background soundtrack of actual native drums until I was hushed in case the Britpackers heard - like I care what they think of my behaviour when I'm sitting a mere two blocks from where I was whelped. My hometown, I can be as I am, at least, everybody else seemed so alarming au natural. Especially in the park which is usually a nature reserve for derros anyway. :)</p><p align="center"><table align="center">
<tr valign="top"><td><img src="http://uk.geocities.com/havisham06/images/beach.jpg" alt="Farscape rally at Maroubra" width"="133" height="100" border="0">
</td><td><img src="http://uk.geocities.com/havisham06/images/leap.jpg" alt="Several young chaps a'leaping" width="133" height="100" border="0"></td><td><img src="http://uk.geocities.com/havisham06/images/mendhi.jpg" alt="my mendhi" width="133" height="100" border="0"></td></tr></table></p><p>Monday: feeling very poorly and they expect me to do work. I want to go home. I want to nap before Smallville, otherwise I'll be all cross and I won't enjoy it. Pout.</p>
<li><a href="http://www.geocities.com/euro_mag7/misc.html">Magnficent Seven: misc stuff</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/show.cgi?show=10&limit=&sort=&">TWOP: Angel</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/online/story/0,3605,794322,00.html">Sean Pertwee: Give peace a click</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.yeswes.com/ywcaps/angel/s4/ground/">Wes spoiler caps</a></li><li><a href="http://www.skinnypanda.com/pastepisodes/2002/02-03-22.html">Skinny Panda</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.cinescape.com/0/Television_2.asp">Cinescape</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.yeswes.com/gallery/wespics/index4.html">Wes promo pics</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.yeswes.com/ywcaps/angel/s4/credits/">Angel credits</a></li><li><a href="http://www.thewb.com/Shows/WithFeedback/0,9310,64396,00.html">The History of Angel</a></li><li><a href="http://www.buggerthis.net/">Bugger This</a></li>
<li><a href="http://static.thewb.com/downloads/desktops/red/motor/1024x768.jpg">Mofo on a motorcycle</a></li><li><a href="http://www.nothing-is-forgotten.co.uk/episode.html">Robin of Sherwood</a></li><li><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2002/10/13/movies/13LYMA.html?todaysheadlines">On the Seas Again, Guided by a Star</a></li><li><a href="http://www.hennahante.com/">Mendhi Resources</a></li><li><a href="http://www.physics.ohio-state.edu/~wilkins/writing/Resources/essays/mondegreens.html">mondegreen central</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/text/articles/2002/10/10/1034222542673.htm">Use your noodle</a></li><li><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/news/story/0,11711,808972,00.html">Robbie and Kylie climb aboard a rehashed Magic Roundabout</a></li>
<li><a href="http://go.hotwired.com/news/culture/0,1284,55592,00.html/wn_ascii">Art: What's Original Anyway?</a></li><li><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/technology/2305725.stm">Chips offer insights into birdlife</a></li><li><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2002/10/10/1034222543759.html">Men switch from bare to bearish</a></li><li><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2002/10/10/1034222545358.html">Penis puppeteers create a stir</a></li><li><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/text/articles/2002/10/10/1034222543663.htm">Lemons useful in a squeeze</a></li><li><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/text/articles/2002/10/10/1034222543765.htm">We don't want to be listened to, we want to be heard</a></li><li><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/text/articles/2002/10/10/1034222542705.htm">Let's hear it for the boy</a></li><li><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/text/articles/2002/10/10/1034222542793.htm">Living gel</a></li> <li><a href="http://www.smh.com.au/specials/ethnicmap/index.html">Ethnic map of Sydney</a></li><li><a href="http://argument.independent.co.uk/commentators/story.jsp?story=342461">Robert Fisk: This crime proves none of us are safe - and Britons may well be the next targets</a></li>
<p>&nbsp;</p></font>
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