26 March 2008


I've just finished sorting my knickers drawer. I bought some lovely new ones and the actual physical need to have them all properly folded and neatly stacked suddenly became overwhelming. [You know the feeling that comes with owning lovely new things, right? I am wearing pyjamas now and in the living-room so it's not like I'm even close to them but I swear I feel prettier already.] Do you know when you're desperately looking for that particular pair bcs that's the one you must, you simply must, wear that very day and you can't find it anywhere? I have it. Honestly. I am looking at the floor right now [did the sorting and folding while watching S2 of Torchwood. My knickers and John Barrowman, I live for irony] and I count at least seven pairs that I had never seen before, seven pairs of ugly, lacey, humungous knickers at that. What the bloody hell?

Remember that dialogue from The West Wing, one of them says I accidentally slept with a prostitute and the other one replies How, did you trip? Let's try that.

You: Did you sleep with a lot of fat, forgetful lesbians lately?
Me: A lot of fat, forg...? No.
You: Oh all right, semantics, we'd forgotten you're all pissy abt proper word use. Okaay, did you sleep with seven fat forgetful lesbians lately then?
Me: No. And that would still be a lot of lesbians, mind.
You: That rather depends.
Me: That rather doesn't.
You: Prude!
Me: Actually, not.
You: Oh I see what you mean, if they're fat it's like there's more of them then, like at least ten? Ten just might be construed as a lot, yes...
Me: *Looks round for mallet to put self out of self's misery*
You: Oh wait, we just thought of something else, did you sleep with, say, any lumberjacks lately?
Me: Lumberjacks? Really?
You: Well you know, they do put on women's clothings and they're okay.
Me: Right. Not in Lisbon, no.
You: So you haven't?
Me: Haven't what?
You: Shagged seven lumberjacks who fancy women's underwear?
Me: I see. I'm afraid I haven't, no.
You: Oh that's too bad, it might have been fun! They're rugged, we hear.
Me: But don't lumberjacks in knickers skip and jump?
You: Oh right. Sorry. Stevedores then? Big, effeminate stevedores?
Me: *Finds mallet and puts self out of self's misery*


8 furballs:

QuietusLeo said...

Lioness! You slay me. I love the references to Monty Python's Lumberjack song.
I'm not embarrassed to admit I was addicted to Monty Python's Flying Circus waaaaaaaay back in the 70's.

Dexter Colt said...

I'm still waiting for Victor's Secret to open, so I too, can have a lovely collection of knickers...

CarpeDM said...

Hee! You make me laugh.

And dang you for talking about lumberjacks. I love lumberjacks. And now when I think about them, I will now see them in huge lacy underwear. Great. Somehow that takes away from their ruggedness.

I do not remember the lumberjack song. Must check youtube.

Lioness said...

Quietusleo, infidel! Embarrassed to admit?? Oh blasphemy, wear it proudly, it is a sign of intelligence and sanity to be a Monty python fan! In fact, it's a bloody useful filtre upon meeting new people. ;)

Dexter, oh God, Victor's Secrets sounds to appalingly vile to Portie ears, it's unthinkable! brings to mind long pinkie nails, polyester clothes and a naff moustache. *furball* RUN!

Dana, google the album and then youtube the songs (is that even a verb?), they are brilliant!

QuietusLeo said...

Look again at my comment, I wrote:
"NOT embarrassed"
What'r'you blind?

Lioness said...

It's the phrasing, "I'm not embarrassed to admit"! It should have been "I'M PROUD TO INFORM THE WORLD".

Am a bit short-sighted, yes.

QuietusLeo said...

OK, dammit, I am proud.
Aaaah, I feel so liberated.

José said...

Este post NUNCA poderia ter sido escrito por um homem.
Desarrumar, contar, dobrar amorosamente e voltar a arrumar... CUECAS?!?!?!
(por falar nisso, tenho que ir às compras...)