In Other Words

Right, don't ask

Thursday morning, feels like a Monday. That’s probably because yesterday felt like Saturday, it being a free day and all, but that means somebody stole my Sunday. Well, at least this new week only has a Monday and a Friday, with the twilight zone from Tuesday till Thursday conveniently removed, for our enjoyment.

Must be those bloody aliens again, those aliens and their pranks! Crop Circles, Abduction, Cattle Mutilation, Elvis Pressley, Peanut Butter. Man, they really know their stuff! “Hey, lets go play a prank on that farmer and kill half his cattle!” “Cool!”

Like the galactic version of cow tipping. “Hey, look how surprised this cow looks when I remove his Liver!”

For some reason, I’m imagining they’ve got goofy American accents and wear baseball bats backwards[ed. it was supposed to be caps, but this slipped out, so be it]. Though I’m not sure if I want goofy American stoners as aliens, even in my imagination (Dude, what does this button do?)

Oh, for those people unaware of what cow tipping is, here follows a short explanation. Cow tipping is something done in small villages, after copious amounts of alcohol. A couple of lads go out into the field, trying their hardest to walk softly enough, so as not to wake the cows, and then move into a field with, (surprise surprise) lions.

Lions you ask? No, cows actually, (not funny, I know, but then you don’t read this Blog to be amused by my sharp wit, do you? No! You don’t! You don't read it at all! You bastard! YOU ANIMALS! YOU, WITH YOUR DAMNED PEANUT BUTTER!). Anyways, so they (the young lads) move over to the cow, which is sleeping (Cows sleep standing up, for those of you who missed cowology 101). They then take the long, thick pole they conveniently took (I might not have mentioned it, to begin with, but they have a pole (the young men, not the cows (cows are female, they don’t have poles)) stick it in the ground, under the cow’s belly and then lift. The result? A surprised moo and a ground shaking thump as the cow falls over.

Now the humour is in the facial expression of the cow. It’s somewhere between ‘ooh, it’s a train’ and ‘mad cow disease? I’m not worried! I’m a canary!’ Right, so that’s cow tipping.

Last night we went to see Peter Kruder (from Kruder and Dorfmeister) at Heineken Greenroom. Good music, but like always they started too late and I felt it my moral duty to leave early. Still, only managed to get a few hours of sleep, so I’ll use that as the excuse for why my sense of humour resides somewhere between a feather duster and… a jar of peanut butter.

Did enjoy the beach, though. That was nice.

posted by Symbol @ 3.6.04