Oh okay, I've calmed down now.
I'm reading Stephen Fry's Paperweight ((Arrow, 470pp)- it's a collection of newspaper and magazine columns he wrote early in his career. This one is particularly apt for me this week:it's called Sock Fury, (he's lost one sock and then spill coffee all over the kitchen floor and it makes him ballistic) and in it he says,
What is so infuriating is the fact that I am incensed by two such nugatory, not to say trivial, hiccoughs in the life of one who generally speaking doesn't have much to kvetch about...If I tremble with rage at a mislaid gentleman's half-hose...what have I left in the emotion-back for genocidal injustice or universal peace?
Well exactly.
Last week as I was running to get the dog to the kennel and myself on the highway for a 2 hour drive to a client event, I popped into one of our local bakeries for some bread. Since I've been away more than I've been home this month, it was going to serve as breakfast and lunch. "This is today's bread, right?" I asked. "Yes, sure, absolutely," said the over-jolly guy behind the counter.
Well it wasn't. And it cost $3.50. And I was pissed and got a headache and a stiff neck and made up all kinds of exotic tortures to demonstrate the folly of lying to customers.
So, I get to the hotel. I won't tell you the name (call it the Comfort Inn) - cheap and cheerful just like my client. I turn on the TV.
To find a 24-hour free porn channel, right after the decorating network.
Now there's something about a very sharp close up of someone's naughty bits that's off-putting if you don't expect it, even if it's something we're all familiar with. Granted, there was no bestiality, and everyone was slim and very, very clean, but still...I'm cancelling all my future reservations with this hotel chain, writing to the President of the company and telling everyone I can think of about this non-advertised special.
Well, yeah, I watched it. A bit. But I didn't inhale.
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