Information Symmetry

This week went rather quickly – I suppose when one of the most amusing things you do to yourself is re-pull the already pulled muscle on your leg, and limping painfully while shaking head that you never seem to learn is compounded by nearly losing life (I suppose limb doesn’t count here) and being saved by a man in uniform (God bless unnamed cop) – life does rather have its fair share of things to make you sober – even the caffeine seems to have taken a rather middle ground seat now.

My early morning jogs being put on the back burner owing to that near incident with a downed live power line (and being bodily lifted by a copper off the road, LOL I am still blushing), and said pulled muscle that ‘had’ to be exercised to get better, but got worse, and Long John Silvering my way around being the norm, I have found myself spending a lot more time seated – and pondering why there are a lot of things that I might need to do before I die (hopefully of old age, and not by being electrocuted, then tased (or the other way round, depending on how pissed off said cop will be next time – I suppose there are worse fates, I could be walking around looking like some people’s hair))

I shared something with human who I talks to, a lot, all day long – and he reciprocated in kind – something Charlie from Numb3rs would call information symmetry (I watch Numb3rs mainly to learn about stuff, not having been a Maths boffin or anything, I can actually pretend to know stuff in conversations, although when I write about Seismic Vibrators, I actually know what the heck they are and what they do, but that is beside the point – or Top Gear – oh and that Episode where they had the Eurofighter – Sweet – Cutified and I were cooing like mad – the lad loves his planes, and cars I might add), and did I mention that I would love to adopt Charlie, and ruffle his hair? Well, I would. So I shall call said human Charlie from Numb3rs (minus the hair, of course – we already talked about tased and electrocuted, don’t push it) which is innocuously appropriate, and which, I know, he would call something like ‘Genius’ – with a capital G (tooting self’s horn here, hmm) Oh Dear!

And, self has noticed lately, is using ‘Oh dear’ exponentially to denote ‘what the f* - or do that ‘eyebrow raising’ thing to express the fact that on a ‘stupidity quotient’ recipient is topping the scales. And it gives Oh, Jesus (borrowed from Immediate Older Sis) – and Dear God in Heaven (Self Chosen), or Oh my Goodness (from Lil Sis) a break – and seeing as I forgave self in this Spring Cleaning Business – (Aren’t the temperatures already too hot for Spring?), I am sure we are even with the Maker, and His Son, and the Pope (ok, a cheap shot, but I woulda liked to meet him and get a blessing – forget the whole world troubles, we ain’t got no lift-off here, Papa).[*Looks around for a Rosary*, we might as well start now, it will definitely take a while]

Somehow, and invariably so, I do not seem to live in the world that the rest of the world live in. In my quest to find out information that neither helps nor changes my life, or that of others – I might have come across some that while not wholly amusing, was rather dull and not very exciting, but altogether should have made a more – (how do I say this gently) – interested person curiously, well, curiously upset. What was curious, and continues to be so, is that I.FELT.NOTHING. If my leg didn’t hurt as much as it did, I would probably have to find a way to confirm that I am alive, and if I didn’t love Cutified as much as I do (which is one degree short of a restraining order) I would start getting very worried about my community with the human populace. Which is to say that I am bored – truly and fully. This is the part of my life that garners a visit to a different continent – or country – or engagement in activities best left out of the bible, or enrolment in courses that challenge the mind – (that’s it) or even worse, engagement in relationships with wholly unacceptable people.

Which is worrying – because wholly unacceptable people tend to get too attached to me – and I find myself scampering for the hills (or forest, or airports) – like over the weekend, when this wholly unacceptable woman got too comfortable on my being – I still feel a little violated – it is alright when a person sings the praises of your beauty, the softness of your skin, the ‘model figure’ of your body, the length and shape of your legs – but when it is a woman – who proceeds to touch the various parts, in the guise of ‘appreciating’ them? Did I say I still feel a little violated? I may be over-reacting, but I did not like the way she was looking at me. I know I attract all sorts – including strays – and I hear said woman is a bit ‘wounded’, and apparently I come across as caring and all that so people gravitate towards me (including Zoé the dog, who runs away from her home to come and hang out with me), and I love being touched as much as the next person – actually a whole lot more, if you ask my IBS, especially by the right person, but I do not like it when people feel the need to touch me all willy nilly – because I have ‘oh so soft skin’

There is one curious thing though – of wholly unacceptable people gravitating towards me – Charlie from Numb3rs has a crush on me. I am sure he might call it something different, or I may not be taking him too seriously – or the situation, or God knows whatever it is that is happening, which is rather sweet in a kind of incestuous sort of commune way (I call it relations cannibalism), but if I was in any way inclined to have some sort of relationship with some sort of wholly unacceptable human specimen, I wouldn’t kick you out of bed – come to think of it, I wouldn’t kick anyone out of bed right about now.