how to make me squeal ridiculously loudly, flail around and possibly take a chunk out of your shoulder

I am rididulously, and I mean, really really really really really anti-tickling. by which I mean I really really hate being tickled. it’s not even by choice – it’s really a base physical reaction, whereby if someone finds the right ticklish spot to investigate, I’ll start to wriggle and thrash about uncontrollably, trying to thump you from off me, and even resorting to biting a wee chunk out of your shoulder in order to get the tickle torture to stop. now, I don’t enjoy inflicting this kind of physical violence – but I really just can’t help it. sorry about the bite marks babe!

how to make actually quite pertinent and amusing observations about a major world religion, which might be interpreted as offensive, but aren’t, and shouldn’t be read as such

overheard today:

“you know judaism? well, some people might think it’s all making loads of money, wearing caps that look like bras and volvos. but really it’s all about too much makeup and big weddings!”

how to get v.v.v.v. strange looks from people in the next car

mmmm, it’s a lovely sunny day, which doesn’t happen very often ooop north. and it’s a lovely day for some yummy summer fruit. and, I’m insured on the new car which means I get to whizz around in the super sexy and rather funkalicous ford puma. yes, it’s all looks and no trousers, but it’s quite zoomy nonetheless, and at 1.6l engine, has some v.v.v.v.v nice acceleration. though the gears are ridiculously close on the stick – don’t get that on a clapped out citroen, eh? anyway, so the boy and myself zoom on up to the greengrocer’s to get us a nice fresh watermelon to munch on and make yummy slushes – and some lush vodka fruity slushy type affairs for the wee party-type get-together tomorrow. and it’s a big fucker, if you’ll excuse my french. one massive, huge, fuck-off, green watermelon. so we heave it over to the car and slop it onto the back seat. where the boy then proceeds to place the seatbelt over it, in the fashion of belting in a small child. now, don’t get me wrong, it was actually a genius idea because it stayed put on the back seat without rolling all around. but let me tell you, a surefire way of having some very weird glances is to drive merrily along with a watermelon strapped in the back seat, seatbelt ‘n’ all….

how to repeat what your friends say out of context and for it to sound exactly the way it was intended

tom: “when did we start using words like ‘piss’ and ‘jizz’?”

nick: “why didn’t you just put a bag over her head and chuck her in the back of a van or something?”

emma: ” well, we didn’t have a van.”

ps: photos of blogmeet coming v.v.v. soon

pps: bloggage less because am working hard to earn some pennies. and the boy is up so I gets to play. yay!