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Crap Drawing

I wonder if you know what this is.

If you said, a spontaneous automatic drawing in the surrealist idiom, give yourself a gold star. But you’re wrong. Sort of.

What this is… is the aftermath of the cat getting halfway through crapping when something seems to go horribly awry.

He went through a phase of doing this and I was determined to catch him. Then one day I was just sitting there reading when the door burst open and in he trundled, back legs up behind his ears, tail angled up and out like some sort of rudder, a look of steely determination in his catty eyes as he furiously pedalled his way across the room with his front paws.

By the time I realised what I was witnessing, the spectacle had petered out with an anguished miaow and he had returned to his daily routine with the sort of aplomb and grace and refusal to acknowledge what just happened that only a cat can muster in such situations.

Feb 10, 2010 at 22:54 Filed Under: Blog 3 Comments

Smashed

Okay, here’s something that happened quite recently.

I was out on a Christmas drinking session the other night. Drank until I could barely stand and then as usual my homing device kicked in. Normally what happens is that no matter how drunk I am and how unlikely the prospects are, I somehow manage to successfully navigate myself home from any part of the city under my own steam.

And that’s what kind of happened this time, apart from the fact that the usual sort of mystery minor injuries weren’t as minor as they usually are. I turned up on my doorstep with a possibly broken nose and that bit of skin you have under your chin hanging down in a big weird flap.

Woke my girl up and when she opened the door and saw me she went into a funny sort of state of shock and started to faint. My whole face, shirt, jacket and jeans were drenched in blood. No joke. Soaked. I’m incoherent with no idea what had happened and my girl’s on the floor with her head between her legs doing some crazy breathing exercises to try and not pass out.

In the end she got me to casualty though and they sorted me out… six stitches in the chin, one taped up nose. And a bit of a hangover.

The only downside is that my girl refused to take a photo because she was so utterly freaked out by the way I looked. And I was too fried to be capable. My memory of the night is obviously pretty patchy but I’ve got a clear image of my face from catching myself in the mirror at home and through my drunken stupor thinking, Holy Fuck this is serious. I did however get an after-the-fact photo of my new iPhone that I used to try and phone home. Bear in mind that it took about 5 seconds for the phone to go from brand new to looking like this before I thought, okay this isn’t going to work, Plan B- just keep walking.

Feb 9, 2010 at 21:58 Filed Under: Blog Comment