there's a taste in my mouth and it's no taste at all
Monday, 14 April 2008 11:11 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtWheee! Just got back from my first lecture of the semester - man, I'd forgotten how much I enjoy it. I'm buzzed. *bounces gently off walls*. Evilly introducing oblivious third-years to the joys of some of the dodgier corners of the internet - priceless. Also, mumbling about Freud, sexual symbolism, unreality, disembodiment, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the existence of Weasleycest. This puts me on a reasonable footing to deal with the rest of Monday, which is usually tricky because (a) Mondays are always completely insane with student advice, suggesting that the little dears spend all weekend brooding over their curriculum wrongs and simply have to have it sorted out posthaste as Monday dawns, and (b) we do that regular jo&stv socialising thing on Sunday evening so I've always slept badly owing to eating and drinking too much (and, possibly, talking too much shit)1.
And, with reference to the latter point, I reproduce for your hock and shorror an actual conversation from last night:
EVIL LANDLORD: What's in these potatoes, bacon?
ME: No, coriander and red wine.
EL: Bacon, coriander, taste the same, really.
I have been cooking for ten years for a man who cannot tell the difference between bacon and coriander. Do I need to draw your attention to the inutterable depths of this tragedy? It's enough to make me want to give up cooking. Only not really.
I have to add, just for the record, that I'm not sure if I'm amused or horrified that my previous post should attract so much comments attention, as you witterers give your serious analytic attention to the logic of evil dogs guarding zombies. That's high-class lateral pedantry, that is.
Last Night I Dreamed: I was packing up quantities of Earl Grey teabags very lovingly into a small tin emblazoned with elephants, in order to put it into a care package for someone in prison.
And, with reference to the latter point, I reproduce for your hock and shorror an actual conversation from last night:
EVIL LANDLORD: What's in these potatoes, bacon?
ME: No, coriander and red wine.
EL: Bacon, coriander, taste the same, really.
I have been cooking for ten years for a man who cannot tell the difference between bacon and coriander. Do I need to draw your attention to the inutterable depths of this tragedy? It's enough to make me want to give up cooking. Only not really.
I have to add, just for the record, that I'm not sure if I'm amused or horrified that my previous post should attract so much comments attention, as you witterers give your serious analytic attention to the logic of evil dogs guarding zombies. That's high-class lateral pedantry, that is.
Last Night I Dreamed: I was packing up quantities of Earl Grey teabags very lovingly into a small tin emblazoned with elephants, in order to put it into a care package for someone in prison.
1 Also, in an interesting departure from the norm, allowing jo to tie me to the sofa with banana fibre.
