Post XLVIII

Going La-La Before La-La Goes.

Instructions to me are what knitting is to the mafia. Not that I’m saying knitting isn’t particularly mafia-ish. I’m sure there are plenty of criminals who are fantastic knitters, but the point is – hang on, what was my point? Ah, right. Instructions are difficult. Like knitting. I imagine that’s what knitting is like for most people, never mind criminals. Have you ever seen someone knit? It’s unbelievable. They’re clearly not human.

The point to the last paragraph I feel was rather convoluted, like everything I wind up saying, but convolution is a part of who I am. I like to think of myself having qualities you would never see in any dating advert. ‘Must refer to oneself in the third person, must have diastema, must have nice popliteal regions, must be condescending like a good little man, and must have a sprinkling of convolution’. I’d apply to that ad. Some of it I have. I’m not that big headed, but my popliteal regions are simply to die for. With that in mind, it really confusticates me as to why I’ve never had a girlfriend or even been on a date. I’m really starting to wonder if women look for something other than sexy popliteal regions in a man.

Ah yes, instructions, the crust of the matter. I think that’s the phrase, although it’s a rather odd phrase if it is. Oh no, it’s ‘crux of the matter’. I know I mess on and joke about quite a lot, but I genuinely thought it was ‘crust of the matter’. I’ve been sitting here staring at the screen for 10 minutes trying to work out what was with that phrase. Oh my word, I’m stupid. To anyone reading, I beg, I urge, please don’t think that I’m dumb. Although I will admit ‘crust of the matter’ is growing on me and anyone wanting a name for their new grunge band can have it. As long as I receive £127 million of all your profits.

With that sort of money, I’d never have to work again and I could spend my whole life doing my emotion sewing. It’s like emotion painting, where you paint to a piece of music to bring out the emotions. Except you do it with sewing. I’m a risk taker, a real sexy daredevil. I do my emotion sewing naked to death metal. Why not? That’s my philosophy in life. It it’s legal, why not? Although the police didn’t see it that way after the neighbours called them. I was screaming because, let’s face it, sewing naked with a rather sharp needle whilst head banging wasn’t a good idea. That’s why the police came a-knocking. You can imagine there reaction when I answered the door bloodied wearing nothing but my patchwork scarf.

Talking of crusts, I fancy some toast. Not that it matters, but I like my toast. Most folk don’t call what I eat toast. It’s so white it’s just bread. People think I’m odd for having bread for breakfast. Good for them. Stick with your Cornflakes. I’m rather happy over here eating my pasty white bread. Keep your opinions to yourself. That’s the English way.

They flew out of the window. These instructions, not the bread. I haven’t had a change of heart. Although throwing bread out of my front windows shouting ‘freedom!’ Mel Gibson style would be a great way to freak out the neighbours, and freaking out the neighbours is the only reason we have them. Life’s too short not to enjoy it. It’s why I threw the instructions out of the window. I really struggled to put together that TV stand. So I threw away the instructions thinking that I know better than the old man in China who wrote them. And you know what, I did know better. I mean, it doesn’t look like a TV stand, but it’s assembled, and that’s all that matters.

And that, my friend, was the crust of the matter.

Peace Out :|:

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