Dear J
What! Spunk Trench? How uncanny, we had a similar conversation on Friday. It was with a friend of a friend, she looked clammy and delirious from excessive drugs+booze-binging. She always looks like she's on K. I think she is a lot of the time. Anyway, she said quite forcefully that she loves the word "cunt", that she's 'reclaiming it'. It annoyed me, this little display of solidarity. There's no need to reclaim the word is there? Isn't she about 4 decades late? I said I much prefer "cunt" to the word "vagina" simply because it is more phonetically pleasing. I don't care about some imagined pseudo-feminist implications.
But Spunk Trench? Goodness.
Here's a list of ones I know
gash / axe wound / mossy cleft / slotch / beef curtains / snatch / cha cha (this one's Keshia's) / foof / fanny / front bottom / flower (Jenna's...) / minge / wanger / ...hmm thats all I can think of at the minute...
of which I think SLOTCH is the most offensive. Just because.
Now you think of some - go!
Love as always
O
Tuesday 25 September 2007
Monday 24 September 2007
Farted-in Vinegar.
Dear Jaundice
Ivy brought in her first mousy kill a couple of weeks ago. Except it wasn't dead. And refused to be shocked to death (I suppose the London mice are made of tougher stuff than those in your 'toon'). I immediately went to rescue the pathetic little beast but regretted it as soon as I had shaken the little bastard free of Ivy's jaws. It was darting about my room like a ball of soot. It disappeared for hours. When its furry face reappeared again we tried to catch it by building walls with books around it. At one point it ran into my foot. It's little nose actually connected with my foot. I screamed and jumped about 2 feet in the air, and for a split second on the way down to earth considered the awful possibility of landing on it's tiny skull. Pj found it hilarious. Eventually, exhausted by our efforts I pushed our eager kitten under the bed and she emerged a few seconds later with the doomed little creature in her mouth. I picked them both up and pushed them through the cat flap. I could see her peering back through the locked cat flap, mouse in mouth, confused. You feel guilty don't you? Because your cat is basically doing the cat equivalent of calling you 'mama' for the first time and it sends you squirming in disgust.
This achewood made me feel better on an otherwise grim Monday morning...haha. "Farted-in vinegar"...HAAHAHA.
hmm. I feel slightly unhinged. You need to come to London so we can go out and talk about stuff and feel connected again with past lives. I wanted to draw a picture of a showgirl that was naked from the waist down, but completely decked out in feathers and whatnot otherwise. Then I thought why do I want to draw that? And I didn't know the answer. Then I felt an overwhelming feeling of pointlessness and I watched shitty television instead. This is why I don't do anything.
LOVE AND HUGS
Lyndall-o.
Ivy brought in her first mousy kill a couple of weeks ago. Except it wasn't dead. And refused to be shocked to death (I suppose the London mice are made of tougher stuff than those in your 'toon'). I immediately went to rescue the pathetic little beast but regretted it as soon as I had shaken the little bastard free of Ivy's jaws. It was darting about my room like a ball of soot. It disappeared for hours. When its furry face reappeared again we tried to catch it by building walls with books around it. At one point it ran into my foot. It's little nose actually connected with my foot. I screamed and jumped about 2 feet in the air, and for a split second on the way down to earth considered the awful possibility of landing on it's tiny skull. Pj found it hilarious. Eventually, exhausted by our efforts I pushed our eager kitten under the bed and she emerged a few seconds later with the doomed little creature in her mouth. I picked them both up and pushed them through the cat flap. I could see her peering back through the locked cat flap, mouse in mouth, confused. You feel guilty don't you? Because your cat is basically doing the cat equivalent of calling you 'mama' for the first time and it sends you squirming in disgust.
This achewood made me feel better on an otherwise grim Monday morning...haha. "Farted-in vinegar"...HAAHAHA.
hmm. I feel slightly unhinged. You need to come to London so we can go out and talk about stuff and feel connected again with past lives. I wanted to draw a picture of a showgirl that was naked from the waist down, but completely decked out in feathers and whatnot otherwise. Then I thought why do I want to draw that? And I didn't know the answer. Then I felt an overwhelming feeling of pointlessness and I watched shitty television instead. This is why I don't do anything.
LOVE AND HUGS
Lyndall-o.
Thursday 20 September 2007
me and the machines
Dear Miss Jaundice
Today I have been very busy with machines. They're fucking up all over the place. They must not be trusted. I have to keep a weary eye on them, lest I turn my back for a second to find more error reports jeering at me from smug flat screens. I imagine one day it'll come to blows, thats why I keep a screwdriver in my drawer at work. In anxious expectation of the day when my sanity can no longer withstand. For now however, we shall just observe one another with mutual contempt and a profound ignorance of one another's minds.
Other than that, I'm tired and I'm having a weird day. Someone in my office has some kind of doll that cackles in a "hilarious" way. I want to break its leering little doll face with my fist, and see its inner-workings spill out like guts.
I need to get out of this place...bad vibes...
Your Friend
Lyndall-o.
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