<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d3200994\x26blogName\x3dDreadful+Nonsense\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_GB\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://shazzle.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-9128930095448289160', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Dreadful Nonsense

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

There are so many things I want to blog about at the moment.

I was sitting in a beer garden last night, and discussing the idea of blogging, and how I've restricted myself to a finite amount of subjects about which to blog, how I've pretty much blogged myself in to a corner by making myself easily identifiable, and by not restricting the blog to fictional characters, fictional situations, or even heavily disguised true stories.

I'd really like to blog about the pure white rage that descended over me last night, when I was stuck at one table in the beer garden while He Who Only... sat talking to two other girls. I'd really like to ask if the kind of anger that leads you to actually considering driving an umbrella through the eye of the prettier of the two girls is normal at my age. I'd really like some feedback as to whether it's normal to wish pure, epic plights of biblical proportions on two girls who are making eyes at your boyfriend, whether it's right and proper to consider, to actually consider, going over there and ripping their goddamned grinning hair right out of their heads. But obviously, I can't talk about that here, because then He Who Only... would sense what a crazed moronic ladykiller I am, and will creep away into the night.

I'd also like to talk about the weirdness of realising that your thoughts have pretty much been following exactly the same patterns for a full complete year now; I can confirm that for a fact, because I've just had a brief browse through my archives - HELLO WIRELESS INTERNET ACCESS IN MY BEDROOM! - and all the signs are there from this time last year.

I'd like to discuss how weird my working life is at the moment, how from one day to the next I love and hate my job, how from one moment to the next I like and hate my boss, but very very obviously I can't do that here, because I would be rendering myself not only unemployed but also unhireable.

I'd like some input on whether or not anyone else thinks my boobs have suddenly gotten a lot bigger. Because, I have to admit, from my standpoint it does seem like they have.

So many many many things not to talk about.


Post a Comment