night of the ting

Friends, on my latest manotastrope:

You need to block this asshole. Wash him out of your hair. Just tell him to fuck off.

I'm not sure to give points for straightforward honesty or just kick him in the tenders on general principle. I think kicking is in order. A 4am text is not even a Z game. Do you have a boot preference? Steel-toe, spiked, ... etc?

Men are rubbish. Texting is rubbish. Men + texting = landfill.

(Two of those three are from guys. Just saying.)

I appreciate the (successful) attempts to make me laugh. Another story is notched on the bedpost.

++++++++++++++++

Thanks to a lazy perfectionist, I was given free tickets to the ting tings. I believe it's currently uncool to like the ting tongs. Fuck you backlashers! The ting things make me smile! I have a crush on Katie!




Martin and I had seats in the second row of the Apollo balcony. Perfect, I'm too old to stand downstairs with the kidz. The twing bings are a dream duet. High energy, charming, adorable. But I think maybe we had more fun watching the audience. You know, children who dragged along their parents.

This 10-year-old boy was in front of me. His mother had not one bone of rhythm in her body. I felt his anguish when she danced.


These girls behind us were stood up dancing the whole time. Go girlies!


Yeah I'm at the ting tings with my daughters. God help me.