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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

I bravely ventured out of the house yesterday, and took in an evening showing of Lost In Translation. Now, if I was a mean person, I'd tell you what happens at the end of the film, but since I'm not mean, I won't. But to be honest, I'd've enjoyed it maybe just a little bit more if I had known what was going to happen. I'm not one for tension, or the building up thereof. But you should go and see it, because it is good, and because Bill Murray must always be encouraged.

I got an email today which made me laugh more spectacularly than anything else this week, and so I will share with you the list of suggestions that Dave sent me of things to do when stuck in the house:

Look at some pictures of a grandmother (doesn't matter whose).

Tape things off the telly using only a cassette recorder left near the speaker. Then send the tapes back to the production company behind the programme with a note reading "thought these might be useful".

Avoid bending down to the washing machine by showering in your clothes.

Mix all the liquids you can find in the house in a bucket and see what happens.

Send a text reading "P.S. I'm gay" to everyone you've ever had any form of sexual congress with at all. This is even better if you are gay.

Assume something and then act accordingly whether this premise is actually true or not. E.G. Assume your mum is hiding a kinder egg in her sleeve and incessently demand that she reveal it.

Develop a rudimentry language of your very own and try to propigate it's usage among your family and pets.

Pretend to be lost.

Plans for tomorrow include bravely leaving the house again, and trying to move my old computer into my new bedroom, and set it up in a space too small to contain the desk it is supposed to be sitting on, and plug it into some already overcrowded wall sockets. I live on the edge, people.


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