Am I just paranoid? I'm just stoned.
I was on a bit of a roll with the old blogging, but two days off with a cold last week, followed by the Easterness has buggered that right up.
Easter was pretty epic, with 30th birthday lunches and parties, turkey roasts, home-made pies, many friends, Easter eggs, and stressful, teary phone conversations. Life is pretty up in the air at the moment, which makes me grumpy and unreasonable. But I can be pretty funny when I'm grumpy and unreasonable, which is a bonus.
On Monday morning (oh alright, Monday afternoon) I'd just un-stapled myself from my single bed at my parents' house and crammed a hot cross bun into the toaster, when my dad came bounding in from garage to play me the 'cross-generational' track that he and my sister both love. Now, cross-generational to most people would be Jamie Cullum or Nora Jones, but in this case it was Green Day's Basket Case. According to my father, the song's strength is well-paced thrash chords over tight riffs. I think. Could have been the other way around. Thank god he thought they were called Green Door, because at this rate, my sixty-something Dad is about to overtake me in the hip and groovy stakes.
Although the weekend had many high points, a favourite would have to be dad tearing downstairs, singing: "Am I just paranoid? I'm just stoned."
Today is a certain young lady's 27th birthday, which will be duly celebrated in a local establishment in about an hour. I try not to mention people's names here for fear of incriminating them in anything appalling that I may or may not say or do, but she knows who she is. Happy birthday! And happy birthday to that other special person who turned 30 on Sunday. Gawd bless ya, ladies. May the knees-upping and shindiggary continue well into Sunday morning.
Easter was pretty epic, with 30th birthday lunches and parties, turkey roasts, home-made pies, many friends, Easter eggs, and stressful, teary phone conversations. Life is pretty up in the air at the moment, which makes me grumpy and unreasonable. But I can be pretty funny when I'm grumpy and unreasonable, which is a bonus.
On Monday morning (oh alright, Monday afternoon) I'd just un-stapled myself from my single bed at my parents' house and crammed a hot cross bun into the toaster, when my dad came bounding in from garage to play me the 'cross-generational' track that he and my sister both love. Now, cross-generational to most people would be Jamie Cullum or Nora Jones, but in this case it was Green Day's Basket Case. According to my father, the song's strength is well-paced thrash chords over tight riffs. I think. Could have been the other way around. Thank god he thought they were called Green Door, because at this rate, my sixty-something Dad is about to overtake me in the hip and groovy stakes.
Although the weekend had many high points, a favourite would have to be dad tearing downstairs, singing: "Am I just paranoid? I'm just stoned."
Today is a certain young lady's 27th birthday, which will be duly celebrated in a local establishment in about an hour. I try not to mention people's names here for fear of incriminating them in anything appalling that I may or may not say or do, but she knows who she is. Happy birthday! And happy birthday to that other special person who turned 30 on Sunday. Gawd bless ya, ladies. May the knees-upping and shindiggary continue well into Sunday morning.
posted by Elizabeth at 5:15 PM
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