So my house has no heating. Have I adequately talked about this house? It is big, ugly and stupid. It has so many bedrooms that I've started feeling like a squatter. I don't feel normal unless I've sullied a floor or smashed a window on any given day. I leave syringes everywhere - it's terrible. But the HEAT - or the lack thereof - is causing me DISTRESS. A cold neuro is not a happy neuro (I do of course speak literally here - my soul itself is a happily like a block of ice which is how it was, is and evershallbe). As I type I am wrapped in a fleece blanket and have living creatures strapped to my feet for warmth and yet still my snots are miniature icicles. The heating is broken and even if it were working, we cannot afford the oil for the tank. What is this THE OIL. It is a stupidness, that is what it is. In previous days of old, in those HAPPY WARM days in the old house in the town with a synonym for PENIS in its name, we switched on THE GAS, the reasonably priced fuel whose bills arrived 6 yearly and were never upsetting and LO! The house would fill with warmth and the water was a pleasantry and we would drink tea and listen to music and not cry because we cannot feel our joints and breathing hurts. And tonight people are coming over and AS IF IT WERE THE STONE AGE I will be lighting a fire a couple of hours in advance so that they too will not cry when here. Perhaps I should light fires in all the rooms. Tin buckets, chop up the skirting boards and away we go - instant heaters. This is a public plea. GIVE US YOUR OLD HEATERS! We will come and collect them and pay you upwards of 26 gratitude (that's an eastern European currency). And HURRY you idiots, the very child within my womb is as cold as witch's teat. Or it would be if it existed.
So, let's discuss CURRENT AFFAIRS.
Interviewer: "So Daisy, what do you think about current affairs?"
Daisy:"What do I think? Um, I like them...I think they're good?"
Interviewer: "Excellent."
I read an article recently about how autism is on the increase. All the evidence seems to point to this being true. Why I myself know of several young people who after college have gone on to be autists, some of them hiding away for months and not speaking to anybody, just them and their easel and box of Crayolas. I know one particular autist who applied to go and live in a government sponsored house on the Aran Islands designed especially for autists, to bring out their creative side. I think it is wonderful that the government would do this for them. I think it is safer for everybody if the autists are kept at a healthy distance. I even happen to know one or two people who are not autists, but would love to be - unfortunately they cannot afford to give up their day jobs. But they display all the signs of autism, including nice doodlings on their notepads and occasional aggressive behaviour.
Another important issue I felt we should discuss on this here INTERNET FORUM was the government being encouraged to tackle obesity. I was thinking this over and I don't think that pound for pound the government would win. I mean Mary Hearney would be in with a fighting chance and maybe Brian Cowen or Pat Rabbitte could tag team with her but probably the fatties would win - the government itself is not very big or strong. Besides, they buy all of their meals from Marks and Spencers which have the calories right on the FRONT of the box - not like foods you buy in Aldi or Lidl. So my point is that the government will need to eat an awful lot more processed food on a regular basis in order to have a fighting chance against the fatties. As they stand, it would seem that obesity is winning.
Now that the obligatory serious stuff is out of the way I have a confession to make. There is a hippy that lives inside me that forces my behaviour into such areas as DRINKING HERBAL TEA and contemplating using TEXTURED VEGETABLE PROTEIN MINCE in my bolognese instead of dead cow. This hippy is an idealist; and idealist who is weeping most of the time, especially about the amount of dairy I ingest. But myself and the hippy must fight, because despite my extreme wish that I could love such foods as TOFU and QUINOA I am afraid dear reader that I do not. I rather, instead, hate them with a passion that runs so deep that it blackens my heart to that of a slave trader right out of Uncle Tom's Cabin which I just so happen to be reading right now. May I just mention here by the way, that this book, which is the BEST SELLING NOVEL OF THE 19TH CENTURY and which SHAPED THE FACE OF AMERICA had never been heard of by 40% of the people I went to the cinema with on Monday night. It is now my chance to publicly declare you 40% UNCULTURED OAFS. I know you won't be hurt by that, though, as you never read my blog, as jokes and wit and humilty are just beyond you. That is why you only watch American blockbusters and eat your dinner out of MacDonalds every day and so on and so forth and your brain is shrinking.
TOO COLD TO KEEP WRITING. Plus my slavedriver of a husband is standing nearby with a whip so that I will get this place warmed and cleaned up before the unsuspecting guests arrive. They are unsuspecting because tonight we will slay them, chop them up, put them in the freezer and make pies out of them which we will eat with evil relish while cackling. If the pie is made from someone we love we might cry while eating it to show compassion for their surprising death.
neuro-praxis -- BAD BOYS, BAD BOYS