Worrying new nicknames, my childhood dirt fetish and don't forget to check the milk. [Also, the emo haired man that caught my eye.]

So firstly, as of a few nights ago, my friends Ed and Steve have taken to calling me Skeletor for no other obvious reason than my freakishly skinny hands. At least, that’s the only reason I know of. It doesn't bother me that much, though. I know my hands are pretty bony and to be honest, it's kind of cool to be renamed after a cartoon/game character. Especially one as awesome as Skeletor.

Yesterday, my papa and I went out for lunch. I was watching Bandidas [Penelope Cruz is a stunner] in my room and all of a sudden he popped his head through my door and proposed the idea of getting some fresh bread rolls, some hot chips and going and sitting on the headland to eat them. Mind you, the wind yesterday was that strong that I felt like I was going to get blown away. So anyway, we were sitting there, munching away, when the knife we used for the butter blew onto the ground. I told dad there was no way I was going to use it again and he replied with "Psh, you used to eat handfuls of dirt when you were little. I don't think a tiny bit of headland grass is going to kill you."
I can't remember eating said handfuls of dirt, but I do have a photo where I'm sitting in the muddy remains of my sandpit, covered head to toe in some sort of muddy sludge and the only part of me you can see is my smile.
Yeah, I was amused. XD

Anyway, after we finished eating and all that, we did the groceries and I must have made some sort of remark to him about the wind or something and he said "Just make sure you don't get blown away by the wind." I don't know if he was being serious or joking, but I asked "Are you calling' me a featherweight, old man?" and he said "Yes." I was gob smacked to say the least.

Onto why I'll never leave the milk expiry date go unchecked again. Last night after having multiple cups of milky coffee and a bowl of weetbix, I started to feel horridly ill. My forehead was burning and I was starting to feel really faint, but my hands and feet were freezing and my stomach was doing flip flops. I could almost feel it convulsing in protest, it was bloody horrible. I ran to the loo and chucked up the most foul, vile tasting sh*t I've ever experienced, which was mostly something which resembled curdled milk, surprise surprise.
Turns out the milk went off a few days before last night. Never again, mibba. Never again.

And finally, the most pressing, important issue of the entire batch... the skinny, pale, emo-haired man that caught my eye on Friday night.
I have no idea who the hell he is, I lacked the hypothetical balls to strike up a conversation, but geez. When I caught his eye in the bar mirror, I was close to turning into a pile of mush.
Who knows, maybe he'll turn up again sometime.

That last paragraph may contradict a few statements I've made on other people's journals about not really being attracted to people in general, but I'm sticking to those comments. This was simply an exception to the rule.
August 31st, 2009 at 04:42am