A Few Tidbits

Tidbits is a weird little word isn’t it?

Tidbit.

Tid.

Bit.

Bidtit.

Anyway, I haven’t posted in quite a while. Soz. I’ve been awfully busy dealing with all the women queuing up outside my house. Many of them are merely hopin’ for a gropin’, but most are lingerin’ for a fingerin’.

So here’s a few tidbits.

1. Whenever I get an idea for something to write about, I save it as a draft message on my phone. My drafts folder is now way too full of half-formed ideas, some of which I can no longer make head nor tail of. This is yet another reason why, when I broke my phone (well documented here and here), I was distraught.

My ideas, my precious ideas! All my carefully works plans of genius! Whatever will I do? How can I go on when all my hard work has been undone?

In reality, I reckon all I lost was something shit like “Do a blog about sandwiches or titz lol”.

2. I take an absurd amount of pride in my ability to judge how much squash to put in when making orange or blackcurrant squash. Honestly, I get it perfect. If anyone was ever to criticise my squash-making, they would simply be wrong. There’d be something wrong with their taste buds. Because I’m so used to perfection, I’ll never have someone else at home fix me up a glass of squash - it’ll only be shit. The worst is when you can tell just by looking at it, that it’s all wrong. Lately we’re using “double concentrate” stuff, meaning you have to put less squash in. I assure you all that I adapted to this change absolutely seamlessly.

So if you want a good glass of squash, I’m your man.

3. While we’re on the subject of pride, I’ve become very smug about my road-crossing abilities. There’s a couple of roads I have to cross every morning for college, in the city centre. I’m now the leader of the road-crossing pack.

Out of my way you fools! Let me show you how it’s done. Pah, waiting for the green man to show up are you? Why wait for that nerd when you’ve a maverick like me on hand to show you the way. Follow my lead you pathetic pack of sheep!

I will admit though, that I get beeped at, the odd time. Honest to christ, I get so irritated when someone beeps at me unnecessarily. It’s one of those things that really annoys me, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’d like to stand there and shake my fist at the culprit, beeping me, offending my ears and my road-crossing skillz, but no, I can’t. I have to keep walking and hope that anyone else around the scene is on my side. I always feel embarrassed when it happens too.

4. Contrarily, I get ludicrously pleased whenever I meet a polite bus driver. Whenever I’m getting off a bus, I ensure I thank the driver. I take out one of my earphones to do it. I even do a little lean in their direction and look at them. It’s a genuine thanks. Now and again they’ll respond with a “cheers” or even just some shitty little grunt, but for some reason it puts a real spring in my step for the next little while. I urge you to imagine me jumping off the bus with a “WEEEEE!” and clicking my heels.

However, I’ve noticed lately that I never speak properly when thanking the driver. Something happens to me, and I get some awful speech impediment. I think it’s the pressure of the whole bus full of passengers looking at me, judging me with their vicious little public transport passenger eyes.

My attempt at saying “Thanks very much” turns into “TALVELMUHL”

“Cheers” can go to either “EARS” or “CHUZ”

“Thanks a lot” will come out as “TAZLOT”.

I then worry if the rest of the bus heard me garble out that jibberish.

5. I’m beginning to think that my whole mood, esteem, and general persona, is determined by how many “likes” I get on facebook when I post a status update. So if you’re reading this as a facebook note, you know what to do.

6. My mother has to be the least efficient person when it comes to getting ready to go out. This irks me. When I’m going out, I get ready quickly and efficiently. For example, when I go to the bathroom, I’ll do everything I need to do in there. Shit, Shower, Shave. One take. BAM. I’m done with the bathroom. Need the bathroom do ya? That’s grand, because I’m done with it for the night. Go right ahead.

My mother would switch on the shower, then nip down to the kitchen and stick some toast in the toaster. Back up for the shower. Run out half way through to butter the toast. Place the now soggy and shower gel-covered toast on the radiator to dry. Back up to the shower. Finish showering. Eat toast. Put shoes on. Run back upstairs to get dressed. Run back downstairs to remove shoes. Run back upstairs to get dressed. Get dressed. Pop into my bedroom to ask me a question. Run downstairs to put shoes on. Back upstairs to get the answer to the question. And on it goes.

But sure how do you tell someone that?

How can you tell someone they’re inefficient at getting ready? It’d take too long to explain. Then they’d tell me I’m an inefficient explainer.

That’ll do for now I think. There may be a follow-up to this post sometime. So that’s something to look forward to eh?

(Also, “hopin’ for a gropin’ and lingerin’ for a fingerin’ ” - confirmation that I’m a modern day Shakespeare there)

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