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caddymanI was going to fill out the latest meme questionnaire (what are the little bastards really called?) but then decided that I really can't be arsed.
Rather I now find myself wondering why people bother. Is it just the urge to write something when there is no particular inspiration, or is it a feeling top tell the world stuff you wouldn't tell most of your friends face to face?
I don't know. I'm not sure that I care, either. They can be interesting to read in a voyeuristic sort of way, but such a bind to fill out. And the questions are generally rather banale and tedious.
How many people have you slept with? Actually, loads. But it's the ones you stay awake in bed with that count.
What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one sitting/outing/event? If I could remember it wouldn't be that much would it? Suffice it to say one day I will tell you some horrible alcohol - related cautionary tales. Ask me about the half pint of Southern Comfort in one swallow one day. And the button mushroom down the left nostril. Christ, I can still feel that if I think about it too hard.
So.
No morememes questionnaires for me.
I'm quite capable of writing tosh no-one wants to read without artificial aid.
Rather I now find myself wondering why people bother. Is it just the urge to write something when there is no particular inspiration, or is it a feeling top tell the world stuff you wouldn't tell most of your friends face to face?
I don't know. I'm not sure that I care, either. They can be interesting to read in a voyeuristic sort of way, but such a bind to fill out. And the questions are generally rather banale and tedious.
How many people have you slept with? Actually, loads. But it's the ones you stay awake in bed with that count.
What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one sitting/outing/event? If I could remember it wouldn't be that much would it? Suffice it to say one day I will tell you some horrible alcohol - related cautionary tales. Ask me about the half pint of Southern Comfort in one swallow one day. And the button mushroom down the left nostril. Christ, I can still feel that if I think about it too hard.
So.
No more
I'm quite capable of writing tosh no-one wants to read without artificial aid.