Sunday, 22 April 2007

Shit I Get Worried About And Shit

Table Manners.

And oh man, I've just realised I've been putting my cutlery horizontally on my plate for years, believing it's the correct way to signify a finished meal. Oh how wrong I was! Oh the faux pas I've committed!

When I was quite little, little enough that when I'd take a bath it was advisable that an adult was near so that I didn't lay down in the bubbles face first in a fit of unobserved Ophelian hysteria (being a traditionalist I will note by that I mean rambling womb syndrome, not psychological stress), my father would sit by the door and read to me and have me recite back to him, the magnum opus of Emily Post.

I don't think I can accurately explain the levels of irony that are associated with my father reading me Emily Post -- explaining my father at this point is just too difficult -- but to me there was a special sort of interconnected agony and delight in having to be told and then to relay the correct way to cut an apple, or attend a formal luncheon.

Sometimes I wish I could look at the inside of my hippocampi and have a brain pixie describe to me why it is that it thought saving the concept of etiquette was So Damn Important.

Freud would have a field day.

(Lawn darts optional - three legged race mandatory)
(Although three legged race is more of Chomsky's kinda party)
(Colourless green ideas sleep furiously)
(The present Queen of France rides a unicorn)
(Three legged race)


LucidTV is the best web comic ever. All of them, best.

I often feel like this and if you take time to notice, I am currently fashionably ill.

Now will you excuse me? I have to assure myself that I know what fuckin' fork to eat my baby cow with and shit.

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