Three things
1) The weather was warm. Now it isn’t. I am Displeased. Last week I put my big coat away in the spare wardrobe. Today, not only have I resentfully dragged it out again but I am also compelled to tuck my vest into my pants* in order to keep warm on the way to, and at, work. This is not a welcome turn of events.
2) My job is, by degrees, turning into an episode of Dallas. I have not yet worked out whether my boss is JR Ewing (ruthless, Machiavellian, prone to cackling wildly in secluded cupboards) or Ray Krebbs (means well, a bit slow, not capable of grand schemes ensuring self-preservation). Regrettably, I appear to be Sue Ellen Ewing. Meh.
3) I have decided, once and for all, to exclude my mother from my life. I am not yet sure exactly how this makes me feel. I may have to move house and engage a new therapist (the current one has already developed a small, almost unnoticeable twitch when the subject of She Who Must Not Be Named is raised).
4) I really should update this blog more often. And visit other people’s. And learn to count.
Indifference in the comments, please. In rhyming couplets**. It’s been that sort of week.
* Attractive, I know. Ooh! Maybe there’s money to be made! I could set up a reverse-thinspiration service where, for only £9.99 per calendar month, a picture of me with my vest tucked into my pants can be sent to your inbox every teatime, guaranteeing the swift disappearance of appetite and inevitable weight loss! It’s win-win! What are you waiting for?
** Oh lord. Not really. Or has everyone really gone away?
2) My job is, by degrees, turning into an episode of Dallas. I have not yet worked out whether my boss is JR Ewing (ruthless, Machiavellian, prone to cackling wildly in secluded cupboards) or Ray Krebbs (means well, a bit slow, not capable of grand schemes ensuring self-preservation). Regrettably, I appear to be Sue Ellen Ewing. Meh.
3) I have decided, once and for all, to exclude my mother from my life. I am not yet sure exactly how this makes me feel. I may have to move house and engage a new therapist (the current one has already developed a small, almost unnoticeable twitch when the subject of She Who Must Not Be Named is raised).
4) I really should update this blog more often. And visit other people’s. And learn to count.
Indifference in the comments, please. In rhyming couplets**. It’s been that sort of week.
* Attractive, I know. Ooh! Maybe there’s money to be made! I could set up a reverse-thinspiration service where, for only £9.99 per calendar month, a picture of me with my vest tucked into my pants can be sent to your inbox every teatime, guaranteeing the swift disappearance of appetite and inevitable weight loss! It’s win-win! What are you waiting for?
** Oh lord. Not really. Or has everyone really gone away?
posted by surly girl at 6:54 pm
27 Comments:
i don't care about your pants
although i really like your rants
i thought commenting here might be too hard today
when i came by earlier, i ran away.
ok, that wasn't so hard. yes, you must visit more often. i miss you around my place.
also- even though you're across the ocean, we've had the same weather it seems. sucks, is what it is. total suck.
and, does your mother know? considering how she usually stops by, i envision afternoons sitting around in the dark with the blinds drawn making sure no one makes any noise.
Rhyming is not my thing,
But I like your blethering.
Sorry, best I could do.
I love that you tuck your vest into your pants to keep warm. Can we see the picture anyway? Just for comedy value? No? Ok, I'll just, er...
#leaves quietly#
This comment has been removed by the author.
I have not gone away,
I just don't have much to say.
I have a problem with my brain,
It means thinking is a pain.
I am quite pleased with my rhyming,
Though.
You are far too young to be this well versed in the Dallas mythos. Reruns?
www.dangerpanda.com
Will you be telling
What makes you Sue Ellen?
Shoulder pads in the vest?
Big hair, heaving chest?
Are there tears like a river?
Is your lip all a-quiver?
Can you drink scotch with malice?
Oh, fuck, I miss Dallas.
You know I always favour the rhyming method my love !!!
Sadly I've lost my rhyming mojo so you'll have to make do with me telling the world that it's my string vest you borrow to tuck into your pants...ooops, too much information ?
You have a wardrobe that's spare?
Where do you keep it, oh where?
A guest room, a closet, a hall?
You have a room you don't need all
The time? We're very impressed
You have a choice of where to get dressed
Like people in Dallas, super-rich
Summer coat, winter coat, which?
Even though we're perhaps too obsessed:
Daydeams of string pants and string vest.
"Big coat in Wardrobe!",
That's the call
Go directly
Spring to Fall.
What are you doing
With JR Ewing?
If your work is like an episode of Dallas
Then your office must look like a palace.
Better than a life like an episode of Shameless -
Don't hate me for being a bad poet, I'm blameless.
Where's your "Currently listening to" box?
The one that told us what sucks and what rocks.
If you've got your vest tucked into the pants,
At least there'll be no room for ants.
Sorry, that was crap, not wonderful at rhyming. Bap.
When the temperature is falling And you're not feeling your best,
Then put your winter drawers on
And tuck in your thermal vest.
It may seem passion killing -
You may feel you look a fright,
But it'll save you from a chilling
And keep you warm at night.
can't rhyme. won't rhyme. ha.
luckily haiku is there
it's almost a poem.
linda evans is a devotee of ramtha. please dont be linda evans.
or joan collins, either.
bah humbug to rhyming couplets today matthew i will be ee cummings
(what is wrong with tucking one's vest into one's pants anyway i do it all the time and i'm not joking)
KFUFS - dog show for the speech-impaired.
Yes, indeed, it’s fucking cold,
But Surly, may I be so bold,
As to suggest that tucking-in,
Of vest and pants’s a fucking sin.
Never do I get the chance
To tuck my vest in to my pants
I'd like to do what Surly did
But I'd look just like a kid
your poems are a hit
my day was full of shit
tonight i'm drinking wine
tomorrow i'll feel rubbish.
ithankyew
Dallas, Dallas what a show
Thinking of it keeps the snow
And frost away.
So your vest can be untucked
And you are thus more likely to be fucked.
I see "currently listening to" has come back,
And there was me thinking you were just slack.
But you've proved me wrong surly, good for you,
I can sit back and relax now, with my biscuits and brew.
A frequent and devoted lurker,
Until now a comments shirker,
I felt moved to write —
Even if it’s shite —
A short rhyme of praise
And in your honour will raise
An extra large glass of
Wine with love.
Sue Ellen is "a drunk and an unfit mother" whereas
Surly Girl is something else quite differently other.
And she wears pants.
Blimey, please don't leave me hanging here at the end.
i'll be a friend..
i wont leave you hanging at the end.
that spot of honor i defend
something something something -end.
*passes out from overexertion*
Surly you still haven't emailed,
was it because my last was so detailed?
You felt that you should
Make yourself understood
With Rhymes of that which your life has entailed (recently)
I have read your blog through,
So please don't feel blue
A quick note of hello would be just fine
to reach me here in the fierce sunshine!!
(no pants...no vest!xx)
I tried to be clever and rhyme,
But it took me far too much time,
And since I'm such a lazy bastard,
I thought I'd do a crap job, faster.
Umm... sorry about that.
Anyway, your tatts sound awesome. I'd love to see pictures (even if your vest *is* tucked into your pants). Girly/tribal reminds me of wild-at-heart off-road chicks with golden shoulder blades and dazzling, freckled smiles.
Good luck in your new, Mother-free life.
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