How to be hyper in style.

You'll all be delighted to hear that I shall not be talking about manga of the month this time, (I promise you all I'll write it in the next post). Instead I'll be commenting on a wondrous evening I had recently.

Well, I ended up bizarrely in a rather drunken mode with Miss. Short Fuse last night, as we entertained ourselves by eating out in one of those random restaurants down our local high street that we never take notice of. I must say, the food was not very exciting, it was edible, but that's how far it went.

The waiter had unknowingly injected a humiliated feeling into both of our egos, when he gave us both bowls of warm water with ice and lemon, we obviously had absolutely no idea what they were for or what to do with them.. should we drink the water? Were we supposed to clean our hands with it? Was it some sort of preservative for lemon slices? Was it a signal to leave because we were so uncultured that we shouldn't even be there?

I entreated Miss. Short Fuse for her consent to let me enquire after the strange articles, she stoutly refused, saying that we would only be highlighting our own ignorance.

I then told her that she, like most mad geniuses, hated owning up to their own ignorance and only hid behind a blanket of knowledge. She, being exactly as I had described, confessed, that yes, she was indeed a mad genius.

Bloody Brat.

Just as she had made me hold my peace, the same waiter swaggered along again and dropped a boat shaped bowl, empty, by my side, and said nothing. When the waiter was out of earshot, we cracked up laughing, wondering if they were going to give us any unheard of cutlery as well.

I ate a rather bulky spaghetti with mussels, it's unbelievable how many mussels were on it! It took up so much space as the shells had remained intact with the shrivelled form of seafood... and then! We found a purpose for the boat shaped bowl! I had ended up overloading the little bowl with all the mussel shells, that one of them fell to the floor! But you'd think with so many mussels there would be actual taste! No, I'm afraid there weren't. All that the spaghetti had to own for credit was random bulky chunks of garlic, again, amazingly with no flavour. The most flavour I got out of the meal was the raw parsley used for decoration.

I swear they put something in the food. I ended up continuously laughing with Miss short fuse, mainly due to her random acts that proved her lack of common sense and male-ish traits. These were when she ate hardly anything of her meal and claimed she was "so full" as well as when she kept pushing my chair with her feet, while nodding her head in silent open mouthed laughter, much as a boy does when he has heard something immaturely amusing.

I too had my odd remarks, having cut, bruised and blistered by good-looking feet at the hands of good-looking shoes, I complained how "the hardest part is shifting my weight from my butt to my feet" as I stood up from my chair.

Despite having walked through rain with no protection but her sodden jacket, Miss. Short Fuse demanded we buy ice-cream from KFC, remarking how we would be ending out day in style. Whilst shivering from the cold and chattering her teeth, Miss. Short Fuse made light of being made to wait long for her much needed frozen dessert buy acting as though high on caffeine, she trembled and shivered quite amusingly. What was most amusing was that by the time we had reached the end of the long que, in one of the most chaviest places around, for a much demanded and sought after ice-cream....

....the ice-cream machine was broken.

We decided to get over our heavy misfortune by taking a visit inside the lobby of our local theatre (we're quite lucky enough to have one), where we got overly excited about random plays to be shown, Miss. Short Fuse was so genius enough to ask me if these plays was to be shown in the very theatre we were standing in. I answered her that not many theatres advertise for other theatres.

On the way home, we were randomly discussing, rather audibley, what the best method of dying would be. Miss. Short fuse was also random enough to remark that with all my anti-salt-ness, how ironic it would be if I died of salt poisoning, I henceforth, clarified with her if me dying by the hands of salt poisoning was her particular wish in order to fulfill her point. 'Yes' she answered.

We've never been more loving sisters.

We eventually got home, in one piece, and had immediately sobered by the stern walls of our house.

I would like to personally apologise for any annoyance we may have excited.