S.J.A.Turney's Books & More

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Project Bus and others

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Well that’s it. Now Chicken Boy, the Hobbit, the Shiny One, The Work Machine and several others read this, so I can no longer say anything unpleasant about them. Actually, that’s not true at all. I can say anything I want. Hell, this is my diary. I can tell you that Chicken Boy has scrotal itching; that the Hobbit has a criminal record for Alligator Rape; that the Work Machine has a split personality and one of them’s called Sharon, or that the Shiny One has eleven toes. None of this is actually true, but that’s the power of diary.

Although I say that none of this is true, am I really sure about that? I’ve never counted their toes, done a criminal record check, been to the clinic or the psychiatrist with them. It is equally possible that all of them suffer from all four complaints, though I think that would be a little more noticeable. I think I’d have spotted that. Hmmmm.

This morning the young lady we will henceforth refer to as Pirate Girl was talking while I was only half listening and I almost choked when I heard her say something about her ‘testicle kit’. It turned out, upon investigation, that this was actually a ‘festival kit’. Damn, I need to either start paying more attention or get my ears cleaned out. Pirate Girl is someone I almost mentioned yesterday as she came in with a burn mark on her arm caused by cheese. I will not go into details, as I think that statement’s just ludicrously funny in itself.

Funny thing, words: Why does Chlamydia sound like a lovely girl’s name and not a venereal disease, while Clematis sounds like a venereal disease and not a creeping plant? Fungus is another good word for a whole number of reasons. Fungi sounds like a really interesting fellow, whereas Fungal sounds like his counterpart. I wouldn’t mind hanging out on a Friday night with Fungi and Fungal. Why, when it also relates to infections of feet and unmentionables, does it have fun in the title? Is Fundamental something to do with a happy state of mind? The word Funeral probably doesn’t bear thinking about. Do artichoke hearts pump anything round an artichoke?

The Shiny One is possibly the most dangerous man in the world to have around technology. The man is hopelessly accident prone. If I took a blind, one legged epileptic with a cat phobia and put him in a small, dark non-Euclidian room with a half-built PC and a dozen starving cats, he would stand more chance of building a network server than the Shiny One. He breaks things be being within aura-distance of them. He has a record of unfortunate accidents that usually cause him extreme pain (which I will no doubt relate some other time), but technology cannot escape his “EMP field”. I swear that if a B2 stealth bomber flew directly over him, it would circle out of control. I only mention this because we use a Microsoft Access multi-user database at work (yes I hate it too) and the Shiny One today accidentally discovered how to open the Visual Basic editor behind it. This is not a problem so long as he changes nothing and comes back out, but by adding a single ‘h’ somewhere, things stop working. I can only hope that while surfing for ‘women in camouflage’ at home, he never accidentally stumbles into the background programming of America’s defence network. An extra ‘k’ here or there and, next thing we know, it’s permanent winter and we all glow in the dark. America’s missiles are rearmed with Cream Cheese instead of Uranium. The largest task force of American military shipping ever seen is given new coordinates and winds up off the coast of Wales, protecting the Barry Island Amusement Park. The possibilities are endless. In fact: bring it on. Crack that code, Shiny boy. I want to see that world (except the nuclear winter bit, obviously.)

While hungry this morning, the Hobbit, the Shiny one and I developed ‘Project Bus’. This involves building a full-size model of a double-decker bus out of shortbread, covered with chocolate paint, with marzipan seats and held together not with rivets, but with smarties. The extreme mental agony a hungry person undergoes imagining this glorious transport of delight is hard to imagine. I would have eaten Chicken Boy by this time if he’d sat down long enough. I do, however, spot a project for the day I’m wealthy enough to own a sixty-foot oven and have weeks off. For now, I’m happy to put the building plans on hold. I just want to eat it.

I have decided not to be nasty about anyone at work (unless I’m really driven to it.) I’d like to think I’m better than that, so I’ve edited an earlier entry written while very angry. In the long run anger does noone any good, and a grin makes everyone happier. Music for tonight is Design 19 by Sundown.

So Long, suckers….

Moosehunter

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Written by SJAT

August 20, 2009 at 11:41 am

One Response

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  1. If The Shiney One is looking for women in camo, he should tune into Kentucky. It is perpetually in fashion here: dinner out, church, tractor pulls, garden tractor races, weddings,… Pink and purple camo are available, too!

    Like

    JULIE RICHARDS

    March 9, 2010 at 2:34 am


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