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Forfeit!
Forfeit
Am rather overwhelmed by Stuff, but am trying to balance it.
So, to counter Major Film Company's attempts to treat me like a real employee (i.e. by demanding extra hours at very short notice, by changing the requirements and by generally messing around), I submit ...
Retail Therapy! with a prize to anyone who finds the subject line of this post newly amusing
I have new boots. Exactly what I'd been looking for, and failed to find, last winter. Last winter I ended up with a blocky-heeled pair which, on Monday, attempted to assassinate me. Luckily, my blocky-heeled boots are not very intelligent, and they did this by extruding a large, sharp chunk of metal into my foot, missing my vital organs by a considerable margin.
This was War. (And rather more justified than Mr Bush's tantrum). Was determined to get rid of Blocky-Heeled Black Boots.
Saw these in Office, reduced from £80 to £25.
"How many pairs do you have in this size?" I enquired after trying them on and prancing around the shop.
"Er, just those and the ones on display."
"I'll take the lot!"
Yes, I bought their entire stock, and must now remember to mark one pair so as to wear them out evenly. For I will wear these out, oh yes. Business, pleasure and everything in between.
To counter the sheer cussedness of Microsoft and all its works, I recount today's discovery that the Docklands Light Railway ticket machines are running DOS in the background. In French. (Of course, I shouldn't have been able to see the volume information output: but it was a special treat in lieu of selling me a ticket).
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ladymoonray has been impurpled and gone to Gothcon Whitby. But I am secure in the knowledge that I have seven whole days in which to wash all my black clothes before Eastercon. Off to Plymouth this weekend, but apparently it is sunny down there. And my father is reportedly doing much better now he's out of hospital and in a proper nursing home.
To counter article deadlines, tax demands, fines, Plymouth Social Services, family irritations and the cold greyness of the weather, Ifall down after fall back on pink drink. And the hope that it really is all over bar the shouting.
Am rather overwhelmed by Stuff, but am trying to balance it.
So, to counter Major Film Company's attempts to treat me like a real employee (i.e. by demanding extra hours at very short notice, by changing the requirements and by generally messing around), I submit ...
Retail Therapy! with a prize to anyone who finds the subject line of this post newly amusing
I have new boots. Exactly what I'd been looking for, and failed to find, last winter. Last winter I ended up with a blocky-heeled pair which, on Monday, attempted to assassinate me. Luckily, my blocky-heeled boots are not very intelligent, and they did this by extruding a large, sharp chunk of metal into my foot, missing my vital organs by a considerable margin.
This was War. (And rather more justified than Mr Bush's tantrum). Was determined to get rid of Blocky-Heeled Black Boots.
Saw these in Office, reduced from £80 to £25.
"How many pairs do you have in this size?" I enquired after trying them on and prancing around the shop.
"Er, just those and the ones on display."
"I'll take the lot!"
Yes, I bought their entire stock, and must now remember to mark one pair so as to wear them out evenly. For I will wear these out, oh yes. Business, pleasure and everything in between.
To counter the sheer cussedness of Microsoft and all its works, I recount today's discovery that the Docklands Light Railway ticket machines are running DOS in the background. In French. (Of course, I shouldn't have been able to see the volume information output: but it was a special treat in lieu of selling me a ticket).
ladymoonray has been impurpled and gone to To counter article deadlines, tax demands, fines, Plymouth Social Services, family irritations and the cold greyness of the weather, I
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I've had a really miserable day, cold and alone in the rain. I've got a handbrake for the trike, though. Then up town for a journo party which I totally failed to locate, so a cheapo Chinese dinner on my own, down to Leics. Sq. to find no movies on I want to see except 8 Mile which had already started.
Bored. Lonely. Whiny.
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Pink drink is .. well.
It's drink.
And it's pink.
I don't actually have any right now (or this article would make even less sense) ... but last type imbibed was pink fizzy wine t'other night chez K. Vodka and cranverry counts. So does 'watermelon'-flavoured (=additive-flavoured) Bacardi Breezer. And, first and foremost, strawberry daiquiri. Frozen, please.
I suspect you have the wrong arrangement of chromosomes to appreciate the full glory of the pink drink, though.
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In that case, I shall regard it as something between a subset of Beer and a synonym thereof.
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Come to Britain. We have all sorts of different colours of drink here.
Am working on pink beer. Though having said that,
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There is Kriek. I queued for 40min for this at the Great British Beer Festival on the earnest recommendation of my mate Sean Keane.
It's made from cherries. Quite vile.
But I've also had chili lager, with a large pepper in the bottle. The pepper is blanched nearly white but the lager BITES.
You drink one and your mouth burns so you need a drink. So you have ordinary beer. But now it's tasteless, so you have another chili beer. I had about 6. Marvellous stuff. A really truly stupid drink. We like.
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Pink drink makes you giggle more. And have more fun. And makes grown men cry. Yeah, baby.
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I've had a watermelon Breezer. I was truly desperate at PoNaNa, a bar which sells no real beer.
It nearly made me cry. Well, emit some body fluids in a spasmodic fashion.
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It was ... not like beer. And it was pink.
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I understand some people actually like the stuff. But they're mostly Belgian, so what do they know?
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You had forgotten where the door was?
In cases where there is nothing I want to drink (e.g. a Sam Smith's pub) I drink water and whine.
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MY BOOTS!!!!
Shut up about drink!
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Rrrrrribbit.
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You should walk on
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I've always assumed Pink Drink was rosé Cava, or somesuch equivalent. Personally, I prefer Framboise to Kriek, it's made with raspberries, rather than cherries and can be agreeably tart.
All that said, local Oxfam second-hand bookshop had a couple of large print editions of Patrick O'Brian books. Don't know if your father's up to reading, but let me know if you want them and I'll try to get them.
(p.s. Glad to hear that you are going to Eastercon.)
Agreeabl(y) tart?
Thanks for heads-up re O'Brian: he does have the full set, though (years' worth of Christmas presents from me to him, starting when I was about 10). Thanks anyway! Are they cheap? If under £1, grab 'em -- I have friends to convert.
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-Optimistic news about your Father too.
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Was it on tap or in a bottle?
Re: Agreeabl(y) tart?
Very recomendable.
pointy boots..mmm
Very tasty indeed !
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Lovely boots, darling!
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But I don't like cherries, and generally, don't like Belgian beer at all. It's too thick, syrupy and cloying for me. It's more like barley wine than ale.
Re: Agreeabl(y) tart?
Ooh, ooh, I can get this in the shop over the road from me! Next time I'm coming to London (first w/end of July) I'll pop a couple in my bag and bring them round to share - sound okay to you, T?
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I needed the laugh!
Re: Agreeabl(y) tart?