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beer, coffee, cocktails, egg, kitten - shadows of echoes of memories of songs
j4
j4
beer, coffee, cocktails, egg, kitten
It was lovely to see hoiho looking a bit more perky this evening, even if he turned out to be still ill enough that he couldn't finish a burger or a pint. I managed a treacle pudding but struggled to finish the second pint of Old Hooky. The beer is still sitting uneasily on my stomach, but the company was comforting.

On my way home from the Carlton I found half an eggshell on the pavement. It was startlingly, eerily white in the darkness. I took it home, and it almost seemed to glow in the darkness of the passage from Hale Avenue to Frenchs Road. All the way home I was frightened that I would crush it, perhaps stumbling on a tree-root or tripping on a stone or simply moving my clumsy hand too suddenly. Frightened, too, that when I saw it in the light it would turn out to be dull and greyish, like the glistening jewels snatched from the sea-bed or shoreline which when examined at home turn out to be lifeless chunks of dusty rock.

I also encountered two cats on the way home. One of them was a comfortably and sedately fat black and white moggy, which sniffed me, rubbed its head against my ankles, and then went to rub its head (with no less enthusiasm) against a nearby gatepost. The message was clear: I was superfluous. The other was a tiny skittish kitten, which darted back and forth between my legs as I crouched to stroke it, licked my hand, pawed it, and then bit it with tiny needling teeth. Again I felt that I had been weighed in the balance, but this time I was left unsure as to whether or not I had been found wanting.

The eggshell was still gleaming white in the artificial light of the house. I put it down carefully while I made myself some decaffeinated coffee.

Only one thing remained to make my evening complete: I needed to know which cocktail best represented my personality. Of course.
You're a Bloody Mary!  An acquired taste that combines vodka, tomato juice, tabasco, worcestershire sauce, lemon juice, salt and pepper and a stick of celery!  Those that love you are
""Which cocktail are you?""

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Current Mood: bitten

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Comments
sion_a From: sion_a Date: August 27th, 2003 02:04 am (UTC) (Link)
cats

And all I got was what looked to my untutored eye like a juvenile doberman running around loose. Is it just me, or has there been a sudden increase in people taking their large dogs for a walk around midnight off the lead?

eggshell

Ah, is that what it was. (Caught sight of this odd thing out of the corner of my eye while retrieving my phone.)

You're an Orgasm!!  There are a few variations on this drink but one way to reach the climax is to combine equal parts of Irish cream liqueur, white creme de cacao, triple sec and v
""Which cocktail are you?""

brought to you by Quizilla
From: fluffymormegil Date: August 27th, 2003 02:55 am (UTC) (Link)
Maybe you had merely been found inedible :)
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j4 From: j4 Date: August 27th, 2003 07:24 am (UTC) (Link)
I finished one pint, of Old Hooky, I just couldn't finish a second pint, of Landlord.

Okay, okay. Forget I mentioned it. If you like, you can also forget that if I hadn't bullied you into going to the doctor you'd still be stoically (ha!) enduring a nasty case of tonsilitis.

Oh, yes: I'm a bloody mary too, apparently.

Now there's a surprise.

I loath celery, and hate the word kooky.

It could have been worse. It could have been "zany".
(Deleted comment)
j4 From: j4 Date: August 27th, 2003 07:49 am (UTC) (Link)
You didn't sound all that grateful. Though perhaps that was because I threatened to bite your ears off and send them to you in a box. :)
k425 From: k425 Date: August 27th, 2003 11:58 am (UTC) (Link)
I loath celery

Did I ever cook you the lamb and celery stir-fry? That tends to be a bit more popular with celery-despisers than they want to admit.
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k425 From: k425 Date: August 27th, 2003 12:05 pm (UTC) (Link)
One day I may well cook the lamb/celery thing at you.
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