I invaded Mongolia with my teeth.
Spun across great silent plains of dust and terracotta until... there they were, neatly aligned, motionless. A thousand souls draped in crimson silk and armed with golden machetes. I listed to the wind and wanted time to stop. It did. I never got to use my teeth.
Waking up this morning was an enormous slap in the face. Suffocating, wet air and a pounding head. I'd never even tasted Magners until yesterday. I'd seen the TV ad with the golden trees and the rasping Irish narrative and thought: "it's still cider though isn't it?" [Brain flash: 14 years old, 2 litre plastic bottles, a hill]. The thought makes me want to wring my hands with reminiscent glee and
at the same time!
Any post-mortem blank spots were kindly filled in by Damian, who called at 10:00 (bloody am) to ask what he'd got up to last last night:
"I think I called Toby 'inherently evil' mate but I'm not sure. Also did I perv at Jess?"
"No on both counts Chuddy (that's his nickname) you're all good"
I fired Chuddy's question back at him, accidentally spitting a speck of tobacco onto my phone - which confused me for a moment. He reassured me that my damage wasn't too severe. I was "hugging everyone", but friends only - and they did hug back apparently - which is nice.
... but the real cidery goodness that came out of this is that I've spent most of the day pottering about in SG: seeing what's about and what's on offer. It looks bloody good actually. I signed up on a drunken whim, but the (rather overused I know) "it's a cool myspace" parallel seems to hold true. The people seem excellent. Must meet some!
Anyway... virgin SG diary entry, virgin SG person, Virgin Mary please (with ice if poss - freezer's broken).
x's
Spun across great silent plains of dust and terracotta until... there they were, neatly aligned, motionless. A thousand souls draped in crimson silk and armed with golden machetes. I listed to the wind and wanted time to stop. It did. I never got to use my teeth.
Waking up this morning was an enormous slap in the face. Suffocating, wet air and a pounding head. I'd never even tasted Magners until yesterday. I'd seen the TV ad with the golden trees and the rasping Irish narrative and thought: "it's still cider though isn't it?" [Brain flash: 14 years old, 2 litre plastic bottles, a hill]. The thought makes me want to wring my hands with reminiscent glee and
at the same time!
Any post-mortem blank spots were kindly filled in by Damian, who called at 10:00 (bloody am) to ask what he'd got up to last last night:
"I think I called Toby 'inherently evil' mate but I'm not sure. Also did I perv at Jess?"
"No on both counts Chuddy (that's his nickname) you're all good"
I fired Chuddy's question back at him, accidentally spitting a speck of tobacco onto my phone - which confused me for a moment. He reassured me that my damage wasn't too severe. I was "hugging everyone", but friends only - and they did hug back apparently - which is nice.
... but the real cidery goodness that came out of this is that I've spent most of the day pottering about in SG: seeing what's about and what's on offer. It looks bloody good actually. I signed up on a drunken whim, but the (rather overused I know) "it's a cool myspace" parallel seems to hold true. The people seem excellent. Must meet some!
Anyway... virgin SG diary entry, virgin SG person, Virgin Mary please (with ice if poss - freezer's broken).
x's
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
the_happy_pig:
I get the same kind of flashbacks at the mention of cider. I'll never be convinced to let the particular drink pass my lips again
the_happy_pig:
I'm trying to get a Krull - Hawk the slayer - Willow - Legend - Conan marathon going on, but my housemates seem to be slightly resistant to the idea.