meat, mauve & dysfunctional humour

A few things.

Either I have no stomach muscles left, or I've suddenly made 12 since yesterday.

Turns out My Brit-Belgian pen pal (Hot commodity right now guys. Get with the latest trend – a pen pal from a European country. Better still, a European from a European country. It's very frou frou. Just saying.)


Anyway. Hot pen pal has exactly the same twisted, dysfunctional, completely distasteful humour as I do, so turns out.

I shan't dare say what we were hosing about, because I'll probably be imprisoned, or more likely, disgraced, but it was fucking funny. I had tears and stomach muscle-flexes to the point where my face and belly were spasming simultaneously.

It was funny and sick. And it was neither about human waste or jock straps. Just saying.

Then I went on, like, a sort of date thing. Or rather came as someone's date.

Was very pleasant, and especially loved this: (as we're driving in a car with someone else):

Date Dude: 'Dude, what's that smell? Something smells like dentures.'

Mate Dude: 'Dentures? Like as in your Gran's false teeth?'

Date: 'Yeah...Jesus. Smell it, it's like that smell when you have that flouride treatment as a kid.'

Peas: Ah yes, sorry in the back seat, that might be me. I'm kind of....masticating on musk gum.

[pause]

Peas:...Look I always loved a bit of musk.

Fine. I'll discard it out the window and munch on a few Tic Tacs then.
Uh shit, I just threw my gum onto the roof of that guy's car.......yeah.....he's pissed....yeah...drive. Like now...

Spring really has sprung.

Yes.

But a bloody nice evening - dentures funk aside - very chilled.

So the vibe was I ended up being invited to a Dinner Club. Am very honoured, because it is apparently not just a group of people sitting around a table masticating.

Or just stabbing forks into great big wodges of meat and wanking over their platinum cards.

It's all very structured, with designated invitees and stuff. The club has rules. And some of them are even constitutionalised. So really, am very flattered I was allowed in, to chew my cud and stuff.

Went to a place outside of town, in the bush. No but seriously. Ate the lamb shank, if you're interested in culinary delights.

Turns out air conditioning isn't the only hot topic at the moment.

Beige.

Beige versus taupe (pronounced towpe – very important), turns out is a sizzling supper subject right now. Hues are hot.

See, beige is beige. Beige is your mother's curtains; it's a Queen's Park catalogue. Taupe on the other hand, is a different fucking ball park.

Taupe, turns out, is as trendy as a Belgian running towards a kindergarten when school's out.

Taupe is well-marketed beige. It's explosive. It's what you want your walls to be. Beige is badly bucketed middle-age crimpolene. But taupe. Taupe! Is Safari-tastic Dom Pedro-coloured yellowy-brown, motherfuckers.

Taupe is a hot commodity right now. Like pen pals and clutch bags.

Anyway, after about 40 minutes of taupe versus beige (but is it the same thing, just marketed differently?-debate), I went home and had the first good night's sleep in a week.

My body has finally adjusted to me not ingesting it with nicotine. Just shows how much it is affected by this though.
It's taken me almost 6 days to actually get a good night's sleep. For the last five days I have tossed and turned; just been over-the-top wired, not sleeping for shit.

Mental.

Now I can wank and fall asleep. Like old times. Just like that.