I don't like Sundays, & P-isms
That is, my friends, generally a vast understatement. Unless we've been out walking in the New Forest, it's fair to say that I fecking hate sundays. However, this view isn't simply a reflection of the characteristics of the day itself, I think it's more to do with what follows; five days of work.
I've come to realise that I don't like work, and here is the reasoning:
Generally, I choose to do things that I like to do. Hence, when I do other things that I don't particularly want to do, I class it as 'work'. Work therefore gets in the way of me doing things that I want to do, and conesequently I don't like work. Nor Sundays.
On the second topic cited in the Title; I'm going to write a book on the amusing statements uttered by my other half. Here is the most recent one, that made my night...
We were in a pub around the corner; it was Valentines Day. We were eating, drinking wine and chatting about nothing in particular. There was a log fire directly behind us, which we both liked. Though a lot of people had been walking past us, one person in particularly stood out. A tall, thin fellow with hair scraped back strode past us, donning an anke-length leather coat and heavy boots. He didn't have dark glasses on, but it wouldn't have looked out of character if he did. Now came the glorious statement. Upon seeing this young fellow, P stated
"who does he think he is, Nemo?"
I couldn't make that up.....
I've come to realise that I don't like work, and here is the reasoning:
Generally, I choose to do things that I like to do. Hence, when I do other things that I don't particularly want to do, I class it as 'work'. Work therefore gets in the way of me doing things that I want to do, and conesequently I don't like work. Nor Sundays.
On the second topic cited in the Title; I'm going to write a book on the amusing statements uttered by my other half. Here is the most recent one, that made my night...
We were in a pub around the corner; it was Valentines Day. We were eating, drinking wine and chatting about nothing in particular. There was a log fire directly behind us, which we both liked. Though a lot of people had been walking past us, one person in particularly stood out. A tall, thin fellow with hair scraped back strode past us, donning an anke-length leather coat and heavy boots. He didn't have dark glasses on, but it wouldn't have looked out of character if he did. Now came the glorious statement. Upon seeing this young fellow, P stated
"who does he think he is, Nemo?"
I couldn't make that up.....
posted by Lord G at 9:40 AM
5 Comments:
To be honest G, it took me a bloody long time to get that. Sorry!
Sundays....yeah, those evening dread feelings are never good but you can't write off the whole day. It's virtually 1/2 the weekend after all. You can't beat perusing the papers over a cuppa. A big ole roast. Wildlife progs. The worst part of it for me at the moment is the knowledge that at about 6am the following morning the bastard bin men will smash their way down our street, apparently hurling bins over walls and beating gates open with pans and drums. Gits.
Is nemo the character in the metro newspaper? I don't read it very often as walk to work, but I do the sudoku and think its on the same page.
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yes. That cartoon strip is wank. Someone on my corridor has work has one of the strips blu-tacked on her wall, which just makes me like her less.
I think what G is getting at though is Neo from off of the Matrix.
Shame about Sundays. I feel the same. They should be a chance to relax, but instead they're consumed with dread about the approaching week, concerning how much has to be done as nothing of worth was accomplished the previous week. Are Antique's Roadshow and Songs of Praise still on? I think they represent the time at which the dread kicks in; teatime (for Southerners, that's around 6pm).
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