The Drivel Thread

Who gives a shit! Get a life!
 
nicky wire's legs said:
Who gives a shit! Get a life!
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I’m not very familiar with the internet, other than this site, and I’ve never seen the guest count go above 140 before, so I wondered why suddenly so many of them, that’s all. You’re more internet savvy than I am I guess, so it’s not a big deal to you. Then, you don’t have your picture up on this site, so you don’t have as much at stake.
 
nicky wire's legs said:
Bet you think it's all those people you gave sticky notes to Lol
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I don’t know why, but could be. Maybe the bus driver I gave one to on the way home from the art supplies store today has many twitter followers and found and likes this site. I really don’t know but yeah it’s possible a sticky note had a domino effect. *shrugs*
 
No, I looked at Malarkey's Twitter and it's pretty quiet over there. The only thing I learned is, it looks like her pet nickname for gashonthenail is fashonthenail (diminutive: fash).
 
Light Housework said:
578 now
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Some of the papers are sharing a story about song lyrics being less complex these days, according to some academic research. One of the papers (The Sun!!!) includes a photo of young Morrissey, "Heaven knows, lyrics are dull now" and refers to him as Mozza. The Guardian didn't mention him in the story, as far as I can see. Sadly, in the popular view, his political opinions would in some ways align with The Sun, and I know he had issues with The Guardian, more of a liberal paper. The Morrissey in my head would not want to be liked by "The Sun", and I'm certain Morrissey of The Smiths wouldn't.
 
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The Queen of Batons said:
Some of the papers are sharing a story about song lyrics being less complex these days, according to some academic research. One of the papers (The Sun!!!) includes a photo of young Morrissey, "Heaven knows, lyrics are dull now" and refers to him as Mozza. The Guardian didn't mention him in the story, as far as I can see. Sadly, in the popular view, his political opinions would in some ways align with The Sun, and I know he had issues with The Guardian, more of a liberal paper. The Morrissey in my head would not want to be liked by "The Sun", and I'm certain Morrissey of The Smiths wouldn't.
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And here she comes, in.. five.. four.. three.. two.. one..
 
Dreamt I was driving a car full of people, and had to learn where everything was, like which pedal was gas and which one was the brake. I stumbled into a party too, and the people were extremely friendly to me. There was an item I was interested in buying for its practicality, but it turned out to be made of leather, so I put it back. I can’t remember anything else.
 
I’m remembering more dreaming now. I was in a crowded boxcar and had to perch on some boxes. I was surrounded by young men, and they didn’t particularly like me. They didn’t menace me. It was similar to riding the bus.
 
Had a nap and dreamt that a woman and I were feeling each other up on a bed, and when we held hands, all four hands, I hoped that we’d settle on remaining platonic like that. Then a helicopter that kept hovering outside took off at great speed, and it’s velocity spewed fire behind it and lit the garbage outside on fire, and we had to high tail it out of there because it spread fast. I just rattle coughed. First time today, and the day’s nearly over. I’d hoped to see Morrissey on my walk today, but I guess he’s spending Easter with family or something. Can’t say I blame him. I’m not feeling very attractive today. My attitude is still to be friendly to myself first. I’m still trying it on for size. Still giving the odd Morrissey sticky note away, not many. Most people just don’t look open enough for me to feel confidant in offering them one. Kind of like how I didn’t seem open to Morrissey as we walked toward each other on February the 13th. I’d believed he was Asian, and therefore not Morrissey, until it was too late to gracefully be friendly, when we were right next to each other, and I saw a distinctly Caucasian man, but didn’t recognize him as Morrissey right away. I went and did my groceries, then made a beeline home, and mulled over what I’d seen, and it was then that I knew it had been him. Definitely. I screwed up again. Will you come again Morrissey? Will you? Six months is a long time. I don’t know if I can last that long. I wonder when you’ll be ready to try again to let me take you in my arms. I know I’m no great beauty, but I also know that you need me like I need you. Some guy is yelling outside. I can’t make out what he’s saying. It’s 11:45PM.

I also dreamt that I had to pee in public, because it was the only option, and I really had to go, I’m remembering now. I peed in a grimy delivery truck, on a grimy street. I woke up dry though. I don’t remember ever peeing myself while sleeping. The medication I’m on makes it so that when I get up from lying down, I have to pee, or I will pee myself, and when I need to go number 2, I have to go pretty soon, or I’ll crap my pants. It was dramatic finding that out. I was at a bank machine when it happened, and I pleaded with a bank teller to let me use their washroom, and he graciously allowed me to. I had to throw away my underwear, and I was fine. It was an employee bathroom, with all their personal things in it. I’m surprised that man let me use it.

I tried to elongate your chin, in Morrissey In Mexico. It’s not finished yet.
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