Ra Christmas Eve!
Sunday 4:30 p.m.
Merry Christmas to all you Masai Warriors, spam robots (Hello, Jack!), the various creatures from Outer Space, and anyone normal who has accidentally landed on this bloggy!
There's nothing you can do about it. It comes round at the same bloody time every year, but right now I'm actually starting to enjoy myself. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! Sorry, them's pirates. Anyway, it's better than going to work.
So we have the object to be perceived, in this case, Christmas, the apparatus for analysing the photons, etc., and the consciousness. Let's admit it, Hotboy. The consciousness bit has been a bit of a Scrooge. So if we just change that, the Christmas will suddenly seem wonderful. There's nothing the matter with Christmas. As usual, the problem seems to be between your ears. At least, try to concentrate on the good stuff, ya crabbit basturn!
The flat is empty at the moment. Savour and enjoy it! And I'm off to do ra bliss!
1:2o a.m.
I used to have a perfect Christmas shopping strategy. Have no money. When I did have money, I used to ask the Domestic Bliss which kind of perfume she'd like. Then I'd nick into Frasers at the end of Princes Street (the perfume counter was just inside the door) and buy three bottles of this ridiculously priced, practically odourless water. One for the Dom Bliss and the others for my old dear and the auntie Kathy. It was quick and you could do that on the way to Haymarket Station and the train back home to Lanarkshire. This year I made the mistake of asking the kiddo what she wanted for her Christmas. She said she wanted a pair of black fishnet stockings with a red seam. This means shopping.
The shop's called Whiplash Trash. It sells mainly drug taking paraphenalia, it seems. The lassie behind the counter is in black with the make up not too gothy. There was a freak sitting along at the end, an asylum seeker from a Judge Dredd comic. Nice wee lassie. I don't suppose I can buy a pair of fishnet stockings with a red seam here, I said. That stock was kind of round the back. So I'm buying various suspender belts and red stockings with white seams, and never getting it quite right. It's for my daughter, I said. You couldn't put it on the plastic because she said the bank wouldn't let them have a machine. Undaunted though, eh?
Merry Christmas to all you Masai Warriors, spam robots (Hello, Jack!), the various creatures from Outer Space, and anyone normal who has accidentally landed on this bloggy!
There's nothing you can do about it. It comes round at the same bloody time every year, but right now I'm actually starting to enjoy myself. Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum! Sorry, them's pirates. Anyway, it's better than going to work.
So we have the object to be perceived, in this case, Christmas, the apparatus for analysing the photons, etc., and the consciousness. Let's admit it, Hotboy. The consciousness bit has been a bit of a Scrooge. So if we just change that, the Christmas will suddenly seem wonderful. There's nothing the matter with Christmas. As usual, the problem seems to be between your ears. At least, try to concentrate on the good stuff, ya crabbit basturn!
The flat is empty at the moment. Savour and enjoy it! And I'm off to do ra bliss!
1:2o a.m.
I used to have a perfect Christmas shopping strategy. Have no money. When I did have money, I used to ask the Domestic Bliss which kind of perfume she'd like. Then I'd nick into Frasers at the end of Princes Street (the perfume counter was just inside the door) and buy three bottles of this ridiculously priced, practically odourless water. One for the Dom Bliss and the others for my old dear and the auntie Kathy. It was quick and you could do that on the way to Haymarket Station and the train back home to Lanarkshire. This year I made the mistake of asking the kiddo what she wanted for her Christmas. She said she wanted a pair of black fishnet stockings with a red seam. This means shopping.
The shop's called Whiplash Trash. It sells mainly drug taking paraphenalia, it seems. The lassie behind the counter is in black with the make up not too gothy. There was a freak sitting along at the end, an asylum seeker from a Judge Dredd comic. Nice wee lassie. I don't suppose I can buy a pair of fishnet stockings with a red seam here, I said. That stock was kind of round the back. So I'm buying various suspender belts and red stockings with white seams, and never getting it quite right. It's for my daughter, I said. You couldn't put it on the plastic because she said the bank wouldn't let them have a machine. Undaunted though, eh?
posted by Hotboy at 4:30 PM
4 Comments:
I hope you are savouring the quiet and have a blissful day Hotboy!
Have a joyful holiday!
Love your friend,
Lee Ann
Commiserations of the season to you. Where I live is paradise for Scrooges - by the time it's Christmas lunchtime and the Queen makes it official, we're already well into Boxing Day. We miss all the palaver.
Lee Ann: What a good, good day I had today! I only went out once. No shopping.Got back to ra bliss! Santa will be good to the good. Another pair of socks for me then!
Adolf! Heil! I zink you have been on zee sherry again! How can it be the same day and a different day at the same time? You'll be in tomorrow already then. I don't see how that helps. Hotboy
Erid: We handed out presents last night (Xmas eve). Among other stuff, I got Winter Argyle Thermals. Men's Warm Winter Thermal Argyle socks. Yes! I enjoy being bad so no Ferrari this year! Hotboy
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