Blogging by numbers

“The best thing and the worst thing about the place”

That was the much coveted accolade held by Crazy Ann in the rural town I once lived.

Ann didn’t divide people so much as divide each person.  Among her many simultaneously endearing/unnerving habits was calling into the office unannounced, doing the sign of the cross on you with her eyes before announcing the state of your energy levels. She had an uncanny knack for correctly gauging mine somewhere just above ground level. Or, in my arse, as she delicately put it, while aiming her foot directly at it. It frequently did the trick.

In the unlikely event of her popping in here with her size nine yards, I’ve enlisted the help of you obliging dot comrades to administer a proverbial boot up my behind in a bid to jump-start my blogging battery. It’s on the blink. Was that too many Bs? Hang on, no, don’t answer that. But please do answer whatever questions below happen to tickle your keyboard.

*Morag scuttles forward with the book*

3

I’ve been obsessed with the lack of all of the above at one time or another. It made me hungry. So, food. No wait, a sport – extreme eating.

23

Sorry, you lost me at ‘secure’.

52

Assume I cannot suspend enough disbelief to imagine that I would ever be walking in a park.

197

Yes. It would involve being financially secure. My partner is ready to take it to the next level – we’re going back to the Credit Union next week. I would be willing to make the repayments on time.

290

I look to the future with anxiety about my anticipation. How much anticipation is too little? How much anxiety too much? A delicate balancing act.

You?

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67 thoughts on “Blogging by numbers

  1. 3 – obsession is awfy hard work. I’d like to say sports – and that running thing. I made it to week 3 this time before hitting an unavoidable glitch (not related to 52)

    I’d like to be obsessed with running down hilly hills – as in wild hills with bumpy bits, not the risk free parkland hills. May I have a helicopter to drop at top of said hills?

  2. 290 – I’m with you on this one. I mean, I anticipate hope – because if this is it, then what’s the point? All I have to look forward to is myopic vision in my 80’s. *shines lapels and doffs halo for referencing previous banter which proves I’m paying attention*

    • Yes, there is still hopeful anticipation and mystery. Will today be the day I accept life is short and embrace each day? It’s back to suspending disbelief. There’s a question in that. Wait, what about our own list of questions? *fans self* The excitement. I just experienced anticipation. It was quite thrilling. We could enlist Dorothy Parker’s ghost writer *blows across finger tips for referencing third party post*

      • *phoaww* that was me blowing out the flames; my dear you were alight 😉 Indeed, I noticed you over at one of our Mutuals. I’m thinking of popping along to the shoppe to get a book of DP. And the Third Party is always looking for things to blather about *skips a little dance* She could write the questions for us. Do we do what we we’re told?????

  3. Aloha. Dorothy Parker’s ghost here. Ghost writer. Ghost Rider. Something along those lines, anyway.

    A little voice in my head, I think it was, told me to head over to this blog and all my questions would be answered. How utterly thrilling! I’ve always had so many unanswered questions to…well, um, ask, really. I’m just wondering if you provide snacks, because if you are going to answer ALL my questions, I might get hungry before we are finished. Can you get your maid to fix something for us? White wine for me, thanks.

    Now, down to it. Questions. Well, ladies, as you may well know, although I am Dorothy Parker’s ghost/writer, due to the sins I committed in my former life, I spend most of my time hovering down in the penal colonies. Down here, they commemorated their WW1 soldiers, oddly, by creating a deliciously crunchy, oat-based biscuit called an ANZAC. Today, at work, I noticed the cafe stocks, not only the ANZAC biscuit, but also a biscuit called an Afghan, which I’d never heard of before. I wondered what other tasty morsels were behind that glass counter – perhaps a crunchy Alaskan, a nut-free Roman, or a coconut-covered UNICEF? Yum. So I’d like to ask your opinion on the naming of these biscuits, the naming of biscuits in general, what you make of a cafe that sells at least types of 2 biscuits with names that could be seen by some people as political, and anything else about biscuits (or the naming of food and objects after races of people) that you care to share with us.

    • Cripes. Will mull on that with my Tunnock’s tea cake for which there are accepted rules of eating.

      Morag! Make that a bottle each :-/

    • I’ve just learned that you have Eskimo Lollies!!!! And if that wasn’t bad enough, the lollies don’t come on sticks!!!!!! *skews upturned top lip into a Cat’s Arse* There are clearly some cultural differences going that none of us could have dreamt of in our wildest gin moments. This is most perplexing. I don’t think we have a comparable item. We do however have some biscuits which are not what they say are – a Tunnock’s teacake is not a cake, neither is a Jaffa cake (although I think there was a court case about that), a Caramel log is not made of wood

      It seems I may have my first paragraph of a post. So off I jolly well go to read some DP to affect the requested style.

      Morag!

      • Do we now? All I can think of that you must be referring to is the chocolate-covered icecream known (for reasons that escape me) as an Eskimo pie. I’ve never heard of a Tunnock’s cake & just assumed you’d taken a cake belonging to someone called Tunnock. The cultural differences do go deep, right? Still, we seem to be able to communicate.

      • Actually, I think the Eskimo lollies are a New Zealand thing – it was on a blog where I learned about Afghan biscuits. *tiptoes backwards out of the room nodding ever so humbly fully aware of the utter faux pas of getting Australia and New Zealand mixed up*

      • I will read your answers but I’m currently travelling to an all day Fitst Aid course (on a Saturday!) so may not have time to digest it. 😀

      • That’s fine. It’s Sunday afternoon here and I haven’t even thought about thinking of any answers yet 🙂

      • Whaddya mean?? Why do I have to go first?? *points at some other comment involving randy bullocks, barky dogs and thistles* I’ve been far too busy on self improvement – a run thingy, housework and reading DP then more walking In The Windy Rain. Don’t you know that this is the gestation period for the post :-/

      • They sound suspiciously like golly bars. Where they banned after the 70s? Tunnocks are classics. The grand dame of biscuit. Up there with French fancies in their refusal to succumb to re-branding.

      • French fancies, I’d forgotten about them – they sound like frilly knickers, of the kind worn in that alleged sit com Allo Allo

  4. Hey there’s 290. I have a pathological inability to look to the future at all, cannot make plans beyond a month; mentioning Christmas brings on nausea, etc. So I suppose it’s anxiety, but isn’t anxiety anticipation anyway? Gah I chose a dud one.

  5. I’m not only not up to speed with things, I appear to have no speedometer. I also need this book, and a method of recalibrating your answer to 052 for use to every single question I am ever asked in my office, ever. You are a genius, Depterness.

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