Let’s Dance

An inevitable move is approaching. A vampire can’t keep their head down forever. Except on a sunny day. But this is Britain, after all, so… no…

Taking a break from keeping the heads down, the hubster and I decided that, given that there’s not a blue moon due any time soon, we would throw caution to the wind and socialise. The operative word here is caution. On so many levels. We went bowling.

Yes.

Bowling.

Essentially throwing a  heavy lump of plastic at a bunch of other bits of plastic (or wood – not sure which), hoping that they’ll connect and fall over. So then, the opposite of what we all try to do in our daily lives – which is not knock things over. I mean, since we’re first able to walk around by ourselves, our parents and well-meaning adults move everything possible out of our way so we don’t knock everything over. For years, it’s

“Be careful!”

“Look where you’re going!”

“Watch out for that [object]!”

“Mind you don’t knock [item] over!”

And then you find yourself in a bowling alley in rented shoes, and suddenly you’re let loose with a load of deadly balls and told to go nuts.

What?!

As we all know, knocking a few things over is usually annoying. Case in point: there’s a whole bunch of YouTube videos about cats knocking things over and I don’t hear anybody congratulating the little furballs…

And what is it about bowling that suddenly makes it alright to do strange little dances?  Who does that in everyday  life?!

“I just put the milk back in the fridge… oh yeah ah-ha.” [does an elaborate wiggle/fist-pumping combo]

“I’ve just done the washing up and I’m doing the robot.”

Well, if you get excited over doing the washing up then it’s because of one of two things :

one you’re extremely easy to please or…

two  dinner around your house must be an adventure because if washing-up is such a big thing then… yikes?

(You know I’m joking!)

And those shoes… Yes… they say you don’t know someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. Well, a good thousand or so people had probably worn those shoes before me, and I still don’t have a clue about any of them.

Okay, so I didn’t walk a mile in them. It just felt like it. Okay, I didn’t walk at all. I may have tottered, strolled, skipped (slightly), skidded and occasionally ended up on my backside in them, but that’s besides the point.

I also saw a sign in the same place for a silent disco. So how does that work? I mean, yes,  I know how it works, but it got me wondering… what happens if you go to a silent disco with someone you like and they want to make a move?

What happens when they want to listen to something really smoochy and you just want to listen to Uptown Funk?!

I reckon there’s going to be a whole load of mixed messages going on right there…

And the potential for a whole load more YouTube videos.

Donkeys and Bottoms

This isn’t about Midsummer Night’s Dream… And I’m getting in there quick because I just know what some people out there are like…

“Aaaaactually, as any idiot will tell you, it’s an ass…”

You said it, buddy.

But you…. you’re not like that. I know you’ve got more sense. I know you’ll be thinking, “Hmm, there’s an odd title. I wonder where she’s going with this…” And you’ll read on until that light bulb moment when it suddenly makes sense. I like that about you. Thanks.

However, there’s no avoiding the fact that people like you are few and far between, and it seems, sadly, that your numbers are dwindling day by day.

Remember ages ago, I said I wasn’t the bitey kind of vampire? Well, I’ll stand by that. And yes, I did admit that there are times when I’m tempted. People like the above “Actually” would be first in line. Although, ‘actually’, thinking about it… No.

A good example of a Mr Actually happened a while ago. And yes, like most of these instances, it happened online. Oh! The arrogance of online anonymity! I had made an innocent comment, stating an opinion about a subject that I happened to have several decades of knowledge/training/experience.

Mr Actually said, “You know, I’d never thought about it like that. That’s a very interesting point of view. Thank you for your thoughts. I always appreciate hearing a viewpoint that differs from my own.”

Only joking!

Of course he didn’t! Mr Actually went into full-on rant mode. He was like a terrier on a rat. His pages of diatribe and foul-mouthing I will tactfully condense into the following cute little couplet…

You’re wrong, I’m right.

You’re stupid, I’m bright.

I then went on to reply that, quite simply, this was my opinion. I didn’t bash him over the head with the whole knowledge/training/experience thing. None of it could be a match for his obvious expertise. Indeed, rather than accepting my statement, he behaved as though I had suggested that his mother had had a restraining order slapped on her by the local donkey sanctuary.

And the vitriol continued. I learned my lesson that day.

Pre-internet, I remember (decades ago) discussing a thesis of mine with someone who, miraculously, knew more about what I was doing than I did, even though he was hundreds of miles away. It also happened recently. Now, I know I’m technically a genius, but the intellect of these naysayers must reach such dizzying heights as to be beyond my simplistic understanding…

Anyway… My take on the matter now is this: You can disagree with me all you like: it doesn’t make me wrong. Or you right.

If you have to deal with people like this, may I politely suggest you try this out as a mantra? It’s actually quite invigorating.

Opinions, you see, are like, er, bottom-holes. Everybody’s got one.

The reason I would never succumb to temptation and bite is quite simple.

I would never eat something that disagrees with me.


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