I have a backlog of blogposts, it seems. Some while ago, the fine legwear of a blogger, young master trousers (whom I have awarded a while back with the Finnish name housut, by way of an apology for, upon visiting his site for the first time, misquoting him to himself and generally acting like a caricature of a teacher, all of which he was very gallant about) said some very nice things about this wee bloggy of mine (which I simply cannot repeat here (much as I'd like to, believe me), because that would be boastful and big-headed, and that simply won't do), and also gave me this here award:
which really is most kind of him.
Apparently, the particulars surrounding this award are somewhat hazy - there are no rules as to how many you can give away and the like. I am going to give one to Signs, not only because she's nice and I like her, but also because she fits the definition very well and extremely consistently, and also because her blog tends (deceptively) to look a bit too serene and consequently needs a splat to madden it up a little. I of course reserve the right, since there are no rules, to go on a splatting-frenzy some other time and give out more to the many deserving who are today left without.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Award-splat (thank you, housut)
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16 comments:
Darling Anna - Mwah, and guess what? I have splodged you right back, oh yes I have, and with a completely different kind of pie too. So put that in your spangly new kitchen and eat it. With some roast veg (olive oil and thyme) and halloumi too.
And don't spend ALL your time in the kitchen. You are needed here too, and - no pressure - but one has been, you know, missing you.
(And don't be giving me that thing about having a life to get on with.)
Hi Anna
Fine choice - and congratulations to you as well.
xxx
Pants
No problem dearest anna. I must add, aside from the reasons I mentioned on my blog, some extra reasons for bestowing this award on you:
You continually describe me as young;
You taught me (with respect to nmj too) how to say rude words in Finnish;
You call me housut, which I take as a privilege.
Respect due to signs too, I must go and look at her blog, since I'm aware of her presence but haven't been to visit as yet.
Trousers, hello! (Or should I say Housut, as this is the name you go by when you come here to Finland). If you come over to mine please say hello. I've visited you but was too shy to knock. At my age. I know. (Don't ask).
Anna - I'm intrigued by this new tracking thing you've got. What is it? Why is it? Does it enable you to go right into peoples' living rooms - and should I have one too?
Naughty Signs - how despicable of you. Have you no concern for my mean reputation? People will see me as a kitten-soft nice girl. Oh, what happened to the PUNKETTE I once was?
But you say you've been missing me, so I suppose I'll have to forgive you (and what with the implicit promise of some culinary delights, too - I take it you are cooking?). And what on earth are you going on about, "a life to get on with"? It's right here. The supremely annoying outside-blog things are just interfering, momentarily, with it all, but normal services (and frolicks) will be returned to asap, let me assure you of that.
This is, possibly, the rudest-sounding thank-you letter I've written (to you, anyway). I hope it serves to wipe that missing-me feeling from your heart (yes, I've been missing you too, fellow Princeling of Utter Bollocks). (Which spy-tracker system are you referring to? Neither one is particularly new, both have their advantages. Their combined effect allows me to, yes, know everything about my visitors. I am, for instance, fully aware not only of the names and birthdates of both sets of your in-laws (yes, Signs, both sets), but I also know the shoesize of that adorable cat of yours. And that's just for starters, what I'm willing to disclose, innit.)
Mwah, dear lady. It has been and is a delight to see you here (and sorry, for real, about the delays in replying).
Panty-pöksyt, hei. How lovely to see you, and the apologies given to Signs above obviously come to you too - actually, even more to you, because Signs actually likes my tough and uncaring side, which is why she's given me a "Nice Matters" award. Thank you for the congratulations, and I'm glad you approve of my splat-choice. Hoping all is well in the House of Pants - I have been a useless blogger lately and not visited anybody. This will change soon, I hope - it's got to, really, because no way am I turning into a boring flesh-and-blood world girl only. No.
Anyway, Pantsikins, grand to see you and more soon.
xxx to you too
Young housut of the foul-mouthed Finnish, hello, and I'm glad to know these simple courtesies have pleased, nay, moved you, even to the degree of awarding me with a punky splat of my very own. If it wasn't for you, I'd just have that kitteny-soft look on my bloggy mantelpiece, and that really wouldn't do at all.
And yes, you are right, chop chop, off you go to the House of Signs. I am shocked you haven't been yet, housut, shocked. You won't regret going. It's a bit like Hotel California over there, you can check out but you'll never leave...
What did I have for supper tonight then? Actually, no - if your tracker thing is that good then you ought to be able to see into my future. In fact, I'll be depending on you to warn me about any possible pitfalls, ok? And am I going to win a poetry prize in the competition I'm just about to enter?
Anyway - can't pretend I'm not relieved to hear that Real Life hasn't got you in its clutches. Damn messy, if you ask me. Complicated. But people just don't see it, do they? I'm fed up with Real things, Anna, truth to tell. Thinking of taking up virtual monasticism. A vow of virtuality. Keep rockin, punkette,
The Princeling of Utter Bollocks
(Yeah!)
Well, Signs, I distinctly got the feeling you were neglecting preparing summat delish in your kuchen/küchen last night (still haven't checked which one's which), preferring instead to focus on some of your distinctly gorgeous writing. As I rather worried you were allowing yourself to be undernourished, I left you a bowl of micro-rtuniaks in my spangly new kitchen in the post below. Yesyesyes, they are hardly the real thing, but you know, at least you didn't have to cook them yourself. I hope you have found them by now, or they will have gone pretty solid.
As for the virtual monasticism, the vow of virtuality you speak of - hear hear. I am thoroughly sick of (what some so boldly call) "Real Life", too. What's so bloody "real" about it, by comparison, anyway? Give me virtuality over it any day. Virtual monasticism sounds like a brilliant plan. Hie me to a virtual nunnery. You can be Abbess, if you like, Signs - you have experience, after all, as a Cult Leader.
Right. Because I can and do, I shall go and have a ciggy (only my number eight today, I am so good) with some tar-strength French roast coffee, on my balcony. After that, to a (virtual) nunnery, I go.
See you soon, Signs....mwah.
I did see the rtuniaks, Anna, but I couldn't do anything with them - because, you see, I don't have a microwave. The cat mistook them for her biscuit things and ate the lot. She is looking a bit sphinx-like now - not giving anything away.
Anyway, nunnery - yes, especially if there are cigs and coffee. If I'm to be Abbess the first rule will be that there must be cigs and coffee after each breakfast - and indeed, at regular intervals throughout the day.
These are fine rules, Reverend Mother Signs, fine rules indeed and it will be a joy to follow such a strict regime. I feel sure I will become a star novice virtuality nun. Oh, to have a calling and to be able to follow it - I can't, I simply can't contain myself, I must let my joy out into the world - -
♩♪♫♩♫♪♪♬ The hills are aliiiiiiiiive....with a virtual muuuuuuuusic ♫♪♪♬♩♪♫♩𝄐
♩♪♫♩♫♪♪♬ with songs they have sung for a thousand years! ♫♪♪♬♩♪♫♩𝄐 - puff - gulp - puff
- and don't think I'm forgetting about the toes. Because I'm not. And here, as Peter Cook used to say to Dudley Moore, is an Interesting Fact: both my parents had those funny joined up toes. I think there is probably a planet where people like us come from - the webbed toe planet.
whnmy (boat comes in)
ok, you've gone AWOL. Don't tell me - Real Life getting in the way of your Virtual Monasticism vows? Will have to put you on a penitence diet of cigs, black coffee, brandy and chocolate (and maybe a few roast vegetables).
AWOL? Moi? Never.
I did venture out into the "real" world today, though, as it happens. I had someone pinch my arm to make sure I was "real". And this story is true.
As for the toes, Princeling Webtoe, I haven't got round to the varnishing bit yet...but wait, wait. All good things and so on. Have you, by the way, an amazing amount of people landing on your site on webbed-toe related search words? I have. In the past nine days, I have had hits with beautiful barefoot women with webbed toes; her webbed toes (twice); my two toes are webbed on both feet (twice); photos of my webbed toes. Evidently, a fascinating subject for many out there.
(I do still get an inordinate amount of interest on the topic of David Tennent's penis, too, but I blame NMJ for that.)
So here I am, large as virtual life and twice as blabby. But the penitence diet sounds pretty good, regardless. Mwah, Signs...
Good Job! :)
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