“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*
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.
Sorry, you lost me at ‘secure’.
Assume I cannot suspend enough disbelief to imagine that I would ever be walking in a park.
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.
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?
department of speculation 
I knew it. The April Crisis revisited 😉 Will read and reply.
52 – I’d go over in the full and certain knowledge that I am likely to be the bus driver.
Rare are the times I LOL at the screen. Thank you, birdie. I think that’s exactly what I needed.
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?
Sorry, Morag wrote off the helicopter on her way to the off-licence last week. I do have a spare chariot though. With 4 bono look-alikes in shades and gimp masks. You just need to transfer your insurance over.
It’s fine. I’ll take the bus.
“Only losers take the bus” Thatcher (I think. Well, as of now, she said it)
Thanks for the reminder for my to-do list – book a driving lesson.
23 – I’d have to go back in time to be one of those baby boomers who bought a house for £1/BHS.
Insolvency is all the rage these days.
197 – see 52
You’re on fire, birdie. Please set up a post at once so I can fling you numbers.
Hope you enjoyed the multiple pings 🙂
It was as if a little birdie had flown in and chirped Mozart’s 5th while perched on the screen. Mozart had a 5th, didn’t he?
Well there’s the next number then! Hey, this could be our Joint Post Thingy!!! We could do poingbacks (sic)
Yer on. You lead, I’ll follow. Don’t walk too fast. This is new to me.
See other reply. Perhaps numbers could be used to indicate chronological reading of responses???
You’ll have to break that down for me, birdie. I’m a mixed ability person.
It’s because of our rapid fire remarking.
So…..shall I ask her then???
Oh aye. Hop on the bus, Gus. Let’s get down to it, boppers.
So …..do I just go to her About page and proposition her? Are there rules for this sort of thing?
Tell her if she doesn’t comply, I’ll lick her face in public. Or something.
Can you afford the train fare to Australia?? I’m doing it now BTW. *Don’t stop me now* *caterwauls for your musical benefit*
This reminds me of Himself and of how he likes me to lead the way on walks – but only when danger lies ahead, such as barky dogs, randy bullocks and thistles.
We live in a post-chivalrous world now. I had to drive myself to work last week.
Aye, and now that we’re in the toon I have to WALK to the bus stop.
Was 290 a bit shite or summat?
What? I missed one? Ah bollix. I shall rectify it at once! You NEED to know the answer.
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?????
If it doesn’t involve anyone’s sexual fantasies then yes, I will be obedient. Is there a safe word?
What would DP say?
The deed is done. We can sit back and watch our future comments be moderated..
Fabliss. I shall recline and think of the chaise longue and cigarillo I’ll never have 🙂
She’s pondering our proposal as we muse 🙂
Dorothy’s here!
that’s a weird book…:-p
There’s only another 280 odd questions where those came from. Pick a number, CR, for you yourself to answer 🙂
So that was what the “pick a number” on your page was about? I think I picked 23. Or 11? Can’t really remember because I’m old. *laugh*
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.
Morag, bring forth the gin and refreshments for our esteemed guest. Figaro, anyone? Sorry, I mean fig roll?
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*
Who cares. Are they worth importing?
Pie. Ice-cream. Universal concepts. Put them together and you’ve got me a day-dream.
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 🙂
C’mon, birdie. Get your finger out. Or give me an order. Or something.
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
You’re a whole good’un, Blatherin. Can we start with an ice-breaker? I usually shy away from those, but it might help compose me.
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
They appear to be of the texture of our foam shrimps.
PS, I hope I’ve met the brief. If not please ignore all of the above, and don’t leave those unmarked bills in that suitcase for me to collect after all.
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.
Anticipation is just anxiety with a drinking session attached.
Perfect definition
I need this book
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.
What can I say? It’s all those inspirational mantras I’ve been reading on Facebook. Stick with those, and you’ll soon have your very own Falling Down moment.
…or an explanation for my last one.
I thought I’d look up ice breaker to check that cultural differences didn’t cause me to answer the wrong way and that you mean what I think you mean. (An alcoholic beverage). If so, yes let’s, Gin & tonic for me thanks. I hope you dont mean this kind of ice breaker: http://www.sbs.com.au/news/insight/tvepisode/ice-breaker
United by a common language, B. That and willful commitment to the right to our own interpretation.