johnnie walker black
Jan. 29th, 2006 09:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonlady7Johnnie Walker Black is sort of my new drink of choice. I don't know what kind of demographic that puts me in. Is Johnnie the kind of thing old men drink? I just don't know. I really like it. Could I tell you why? No, I really couldn't.
Two deep thoughts of the night, both prompted by a converesation I am currently holding with Z:
1) Why is "fire" spelled as it is, but "fiery" spelled as it is? "Fire" should be spelled "Fier". Maybe I'll start spelling it that way henceforth.
2) Whence the term "asshat"? I mean, phonetically, it's simple-- much funnier than "asshole". Semantically, however... does it refer to one whose head's up their butt, therefore ensuring that they wear their ass as a hat? I mean... I guess. Sure.
Other news: Am disoriented by having spent the morning figuring out my average weekly income for the month, and the entire rest of the day at work. Z wanted the car today, to go to the liquor store (and run other errands), which is why I now possess my very own bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. He picked me up at 8:30ish when I got out, and I got in the car, sniffed the air, and said, "You shaved!" (His aftershave is a particularly pleasant bay rum.) I turned my head and in silhouette (it was dark) could see that his chin was still fuzzy. I was perplexed, but the next passing streetlight assured me that indeed he had-- Z now sports a nicely-trimmed goatee and moustache. It's not bad. I like. Three weeks, we estimate, from last shave to reasonable beard. His mid-twenties have resulted in some more reasonable hair growth than the early ones when I met him. Baaaaby smooth cheeks. So cute.
Oh. Other-other news: Today, Gibson-the-betta-fish developed a swim bladder disorder. Apparently this is not serious and he will recover. But abruptly, he was floating sideways at the top of his bowl (Z is in the midst of a complex cleaning-out-of-the-tank and the three boys are sitting in bowls until it's done), flailing around and looking distressed. Z looked it all up on the Internet and assured me that it would clear up in a couple weeks and meanwhile the poor bastard wasn't really suffering, although he looked upset. I agreed, but was distressed.
Inexplicably, two hours later, Gibson is... totally fine, and doesn't seem to be floating anymore.
Uh, ok. Sure. Whatever. As long as he's ok.
I am shamefully forced to admit that asking people what they want me to write has had the net result of me just wanting to write everything, which is the same position I was in last night. I wish I could split myself into several parts and send each one off to slog through the writing of things-- it is clear to me that yes, the entire reason I write is that I want to read the end result, and I was so upset when I was reading through the 8k words or so I have so far of the Egalmoth/OFC story and it came to an end midsentence, I actually said "Argh!" out loud and kept hitting the down arrow. You bastard! Why didn't you finish this??
I don't know-- is that, like, masturbatory, that I only write things because I want to read them? I admit I read my own stuff over and over, including even LJ entries sometimes. I really do. I write this crap because I like to read it. I am a vain little shite.
But we knew that, I think.
*channels Hunter S. Thompson from that bit in Fear & Loathing when he's on adrenachrome and Gonzo is telling him about something or other* "Finish--the fucking--STORY!"
Two deep thoughts of the night, both prompted by a converesation I am currently holding with Z:
1) Why is "fire" spelled as it is, but "fiery" spelled as it is? "Fire" should be spelled "Fier". Maybe I'll start spelling it that way henceforth.
2) Whence the term "asshat"? I mean, phonetically, it's simple-- much funnier than "asshole". Semantically, however... does it refer to one whose head's up their butt, therefore ensuring that they wear their ass as a hat? I mean... I guess. Sure.
Other news: Am disoriented by having spent the morning figuring out my average weekly income for the month, and the entire rest of the day at work. Z wanted the car today, to go to the liquor store (and run other errands), which is why I now possess my very own bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. He picked me up at 8:30ish when I got out, and I got in the car, sniffed the air, and said, "You shaved!" (His aftershave is a particularly pleasant bay rum.) I turned my head and in silhouette (it was dark) could see that his chin was still fuzzy. I was perplexed, but the next passing streetlight assured me that indeed he had-- Z now sports a nicely-trimmed goatee and moustache. It's not bad. I like. Three weeks, we estimate, from last shave to reasonable beard. His mid-twenties have resulted in some more reasonable hair growth than the early ones when I met him. Baaaaby smooth cheeks. So cute.
Oh. Other-other news: Today, Gibson-the-betta-fish developed a swim bladder disorder. Apparently this is not serious and he will recover. But abruptly, he was floating sideways at the top of his bowl (Z is in the midst of a complex cleaning-out-of-the-tank and the three boys are sitting in bowls until it's done), flailing around and looking distressed. Z looked it all up on the Internet and assured me that it would clear up in a couple weeks and meanwhile the poor bastard wasn't really suffering, although he looked upset. I agreed, but was distressed.
Inexplicably, two hours later, Gibson is... totally fine, and doesn't seem to be floating anymore.
Uh, ok. Sure. Whatever. As long as he's ok.
I am shamefully forced to admit that asking people what they want me to write has had the net result of me just wanting to write everything, which is the same position I was in last night. I wish I could split myself into several parts and send each one off to slog through the writing of things-- it is clear to me that yes, the entire reason I write is that I want to read the end result, and I was so upset when I was reading through the 8k words or so I have so far of the Egalmoth/OFC story and it came to an end midsentence, I actually said "Argh!" out loud and kept hitting the down arrow. You bastard! Why didn't you finish this??
I don't know-- is that, like, masturbatory, that I only write things because I want to read them? I admit I read my own stuff over and over, including even LJ entries sometimes. I really do. I write this crap because I like to read it. I am a vain little shite.
But we knew that, I think.
*channels Hunter S. Thompson from that bit in Fear & Loathing when he's on adrenachrome and Gonzo is telling him about something or other* "Finish--the fucking--STORY!"
