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The Odd Male is
...obsessed with Ford Escorts. He has an XR3i, a framed picture of an XR3i on the landing (no, really), and a photo of himself in a leather jacket, leaning against a red XR3i on a cliff-top, pinned to his notice board. Yesterday, Nooma and I went for ice-cream, had a beer, and then went back to the Odd House to watch 'Team America'. When we arrived back, the Odd Couple were watching a recording of Sunday's 'Top Gear' in stony silence. When we finally plucked up the courage to join them (we were in 'trouble' for arriving an hour and a half later than we said we would), a marvellous conversation ensued :
Nooma : I'm not sure about Jeremy Clarkson. Sometimes he seems witty; but in general I think he's a bit of an arse. Probably because he's obsessed by cars, and that's boring.
Odd Male (reluctantly being drawn away from total immersion in the programme, and very grumpily) : I like cars. And I like Jeremy Clarkson. I've got all of his books.
Nooma : Really ? What's your favourite car ?
Odd Male : An Escort XR3i.
Nooma : I don't mean a car that you've already got. I mean, if you could have any car in the world ?
Odd Male : Probably a Ford Escort Cosworth.
Nooma : Isn't that a Kev car ?
I like that people's dreams can be so easily shit on. I think I might be a bad person.
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1.6.05 15:03
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I received not one
...but two compliments from delightful young ladies yesterday, independently of one another. This is very atypical indeed. The first was from Smiley Surf-Shop Gal, who I bumped into whilst buying a baguette. I implored her to buy The Rag this week, as a photo of mine is on the front page. To which she replied "Is the article 'The Most Handsome Man In [the county]' ?" whilst mimicking me taking a photo of myself. Cue blushing.
The second was from a rather cute gal with green hair and lots of piercings working in the local shop. I was still in my work togs, and she offered "Ooh, look at you all dapper. You scrub up very nicely." Cue more blushing. I mention this as I very seldom receive compliments from ladies; let alone two in one day. The only rational explanation for this sudden cascade of cajolery is that everybody knows I have a terminal illness, except myself.
What nice compliments have you been paid ?
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2.6.05 09:18
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Cons...
- She doesn't really go out drinking often.
- She's a vegetarian (sorry Norah).
- She actively dislikes Teenage Fanclub. And she doesn't like Public Enemy; or indeed, hip-hop in general. This is almost unforgivable.
Pros...
- She likes ska, and has seen Ben Folds Five twice.
- She thinks piercings are sexy.
- She's odd. I like girls who are different.
- She seems to quite like me (I did say she was odd, didn't I ?).
I suppose what I can add to the cons is the concept of having a girlfriend in general. Two of the subs at the paper have been talking quite seriously about serialising my search for love in The Rag, and sending me on blind dates and to speed-dating and so on. I quite liked the idea of bringing the Lust-In to the paper; mainly as I'm amused by the concept of being pimped by my own employer. Having a chicky would pretty much scupper this plan. And possibly 'Dead's Platonic Lust-In' altogether, as it would rather undermine one of its essential premises.
But it would mean having regular snugglystuff.
Wot to do ?
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5.6.05 15:27
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So I decided not to
...20Jinx things with the Sweet Ecologist by so much as alluding to her on here. She's been showing up to the quiz regularly, and we have a mutual pal who works at The Ship Of Fools. So I told Mutual Pal I thought she was cute. Mutual Pal responded that she was single, and would do some detective work for me. Last week at the quiz, Mutual Pal told me that the Sweet Ecologist felt exactly the same way, and that I should go for it. So I greeted her when she walked past me, and she said nothing back. I thought this was a bit odd (not italicised odd), but was later informed that she had been too nervous to speak to me. Bless. But yay.
So I fired Mutual Pal a text in the week, inviting her to a party in a fairly remote pub on Saturday, and telling her to bring her lovely chum along. I was told that Mutual Pal had to go to a wedding, but the Sweet Ecologist would definitely be there. Yay. But yipes. When Saturday was upon us, I was absolutely terrified. Each of us knew the other would be there, and knew of the other's intentions. So it was kind of like an unspoken date. You'd think that the fact that we each knew we liked each other would've actually made us less scared. But you'd think wrong.
For a while, it seemed a little difficult to penetrate each other's circle (you know I mean social circle, so don't even think it), but I spied her by the bar alone at one point, and took the plunge. There was a slightly concerning moment when conversation went thus :
Sweet Ecologist : So are you still looking for a third person for your house ?
Lemonsquash : Nah, that fell through. So instead I'm lodging with a couple of weirdos.
SE : A couple of weirdos, you say ?
LS : Oh god - you know them don't you ?
SE : Yes.
LS : Erm... Would you say they were good friends ?
SE : Yes. Very good friends.
LS (staring to sweat it) : Er... Let me explain. I do think that they're lovely people. It's just...
SE : Don't worry. I only know them a little from Spanish classes. You say what you like.
[Phwew]
But we got on well. So she invited me out for a spliff with her mates. I politely declined the offer of herbs (I don't smoke), but told her I'd happily join them for the social. So myself and Surf-Film-Maker Chap went for a wander along the beach to discuss developments, then we joined the Sweet Ecologist and her mate, who were now sitting by the side of the pub, giggling and talking arse. Surf-Film-Maker Chap returned inside for another beer. Her mate left almost immediately afterwards, and she sidled up to me. A few minutes into the conversation :
SE : It's freezing out here.
LS : Do you want to borrow a jumper ?
SE : By 'jumper', do you mean you ?
LS : Yes.
[Hooray]
So there was snoggery, and we returned to the pub. After the pub kicked out, we attended another sub-party. She and her mates were camped miles away, and I'd nabbed a very nice spot immediately by the cove and the pub :
LS : If you don't fancy walking for an hour, you could stay in my tent. If you wanted.
SE : I could do.
LS : Don't worry. I won't do anything untoward [this was - of course - a lie]. It's just to save you the trip.
SE : Well... If it will save me the trip...
Earlier in the day, Surf-Film-Maker Chap and I had discussed ways in which I could fuck up the 'date'. I had suggested inviting her back to the tent, and if-stroke-when she returned to it, she'd find it filled with sex toys. "Just park yourself down next to the double-ended anal dildo". You'll be pleased to learn that I hadn't done this. So she didn't run screaming.
I'm not going to let you in on too much detail. But apparently Surf-Film-Maker Chap's girlfriend had to stop him from mischievously taking out my tent whilst we were in it. I'm glad he didn't. Although he did listen in for a bit, which I do find disturbing.
So she seems quite keen on meeting up at some point for more canoodling. Could this be the end of Lemonsquash's long search for love ?
Probably not, as I've just 20Jinxed further development by writing this. Oops.
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6.6.05 13:52
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I went out
...smurfing yesterday. I was quite hungover, and in a fairly whimsical mood. So I sang to Surf-Film-Maker Chap :
"I had sex,
With a woman,
In her faff...
Tra la-la la."
A moment or so later, I realised that the Sweet Ecologist's spliff-buddy was on the next wave.
Oops.
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6.6.05 15:17
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Boy on surfboard meets
...girl on surfboard :
Boy : Hello. How are you getting on ?
Girl. Hi. Fine. It's a bit flat, though.
Boy : Yeah, it is kinda slow.
[Boy notices girl has dimples]
Boy : But nice when it gets going.
Girl : Yeah. It''s coming in fits and starts.
Boy : Well, we could've picked a worse evening for it.
[Wave comes. Boy catches wave. Boy returns]
Girl : It's lovely isn't it ? Have you been surfing long ?
Boy : I think you can probably tell not. I've been learning for just over a year, I think. I find paddling and catching waves no bother, but I still can't consistently stand up.
Girl : I'm exactly the reverse. I find catching waves a nightmare.
[Wave comes. Girl catches wave. Girl returns]
...Conversation continues. They find out each other's names, where they live, their jobs, talk about government standardising private schools, whether or not hypnosis can be used to cure disease, Girl's sister pole-dancing, Girl's knee injury, etc, with intermittent wave catching...
[Boy's friend calls over, makes a drinking motion, and points inland]
Boy : Well, I'm gonna catch the next one in. It was really nice to meet you.
Girl : It was nice meeting you too.
Boy : I hope your summer holidays aren't impeded too much.
[Girl hesitates]
Girl : Are you going for a drink now ?
Boy : I am.
Girl : Well, I was thinking of having a pint afterwards too. I might see you there ?
Boy : That would be great. See ya.
How come this kind of thing never happened in the nine months prior to last week ? I'm annoyed that my life is lending credence to the bus theory. I'm a living, breathing, farting, belching cliché. And don't be telling me that there's a reason why clichés are clichés, because that's a cliché too.
Moses's colon.
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9.6.05 10:47
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Monday morning
...mishearing :
News Editor : What was he bitten by ?
Senior Reporter : By an adder.
Lemonsquash : Bryan Adams ?
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13.6.05 09:08
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I wanted to take the Sweet Ecologist
...on a proper date, so I suggested taking her fishing. Wot with the sea being calm at the moment, and our star showing off its headwear, it seemed like a rather jolly idea. But I'd never been fishing before, so I had a practice run on Friday with Surf-Film-Maker Chap in order that I didn't totally spazz it up. There were a few setbacks. One was that she was on the beach when we went for our practice run, so I got totally rumbled. Another was that you cannot face one another in the canoe. You could make the argument that I would get to look at her ass for the entire outing, and she wouldn't have to look at me at all, so it works out perfectly for both. However, in reality, I figured it would be nice to gaze into each others' eyes. *Barf*
When I caught my first fish, I pulled it into the boat. A couple of hooks caught in the side of the canoe, jumpy Mr Mackerel did his damnedest to swim up my butt, and I started laughing uncontrollably. Fortunately, this new situation was aided by Surf-Film-Maker Chap's expert tutelage, who shouted "What are you going to do ? What are you going to do ? There's a fish in the boat... Your hooks are caught... What are you going to do ?" When we both eventually calmed down, he told me to squeeze Mr Mackerel about his chest until he was forced to open his mouth wide, hook the roof of his mouth with my forefinger, and then pull his head back until his neck broke. Crunch. At this point, I started to think that taking a vegetarian on such an excursion really wasn't a good idea at all. When we returned to shore an hour later with ten fish, looking like a couple of extras from an early Peter Jackson movie paddling a large yellow bath of blood, it seemed like time to think of a Plan B.
So instead I prepared us a picnic, and on Saturday afternoon we went for a walk along some cliffs. It all seemed to go unnervingly well. At one point, I suggested another bottle of wine, to which she responded that she couldn't really, as she had to drive. I pointed out that she didn't have to drive. We considered that it would be very naughty for her to stay round at the Odd Couple's. But it would also be very odd. Especially as they're like parents. So instead we drove back to hers to watch a film, stopping en route at a stack of rocks atop a hill to watch a misty sunset. How idyllic. And how very gay.
And she's training to be a masseuse. Skill times ten.
It all seems a bit too good. Something has to go wrong sooner or later. Right ?
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13.6.05 12:02
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All is not well at
...Chez Couples Impairs. I thought I was starting to get desensitised to them, and the notion of possibly having to stay there for longer than the initially agreed fortnight didn't seem so bad. But this weekend, the Odd Couple really gripped my shit. Or - more specifically - the Odd Male did. I think he's trying to assert some sort of power. His girlfriend wears the gruds in their relationship, and I think his students walk all over him (I know they've called him a "tosser" to his face recently); so I suspect that he's trying to redress the balance with me. Examples :
- As I've already mentioned, Surf-Film-Maker Chap and myself went fishing on Friday. We wished to use the Odd Couple's canoe. So I asked Odd Male if he was planning to use it on Friday evening, so we could work around whenever they wanted it. All seemed fine, until Odd Male gave us a rather frosty bollocking when we were both together. "Look, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't make arrangements with the canoe without consulting me first." This seemed unreasonable not only because we were obviously willing to work around them, but also because it flew directly in the face of their claim that I was "always welcome" to use the canoe. I don't like courting conflict, so I let this slide.
- When the Sweet Ecologist and I went back to the house to pick up our picnic, she was given a brief tour. There was a bit of a weird and awkward moment when the Odd Male spoke proudly about how they were happy to take me under their wing in this severe time of need. They rent me a room. I could probably fairly easily find another one. But I cannot adequately describe the smug fashion in which he said this, whilst simultaneously reclining with his hands behind his head. The body language just oooooozed self-satisfaction. It's the whole 'do a lot of work for charity but don't like to talk about it' thing again. This is interesting because I suspect that the actual generosity lies with the Odd Female, but the Odd Male is happy to glean the glory. It leapt into my head that the fish wouldn't be the only thing I'd gut this weekend, but I let this slide too.
- I was speaking with Surf-Film-Maker Chap (I might start calling him My Boyfriend as shorthand) on the phone in private. He asked me stuff about the night before. You all know the type of stuff. So I told him. Not in too much detail, as obviously some things are sacred. But I did tell him stuff.
Conversation with the Odd Male about half an hour later :
Odd Male : Look mate, do you really think you should be talking about your and [the Sweet Ecologist]'s private stuff with other people ?
Lemonsquash (assuming that Odd Male is being tongue-in-cheek) : Well, you know... Boys talk.
Odd Male (very earnest) : I really don't think she'd appreciate you telling things like that to your mates.
Lemonsquash : Hang on... You're telling me this, when you heard it yourself from your girlfriend, who overheard my private conversation ? That makes you at least as bad in my book. Probably worse.
[Odd Male laughs uncomfortably. Lemonsquash leaves absolutely fuming before he says or does something he regrets]
Ok, problems with this :
(a) Just what I said - I was disseminating information to a close and trusted friend, and it was intended to be private. He had heard this second-hand through his eavesdropping girlfriend.
(b) I know full well that girls talk too, and I can't imagine that the Sweet Ecologist has spared every detail from her girlfriends. Although it's maybe better I don't know what she tells them, I don't mind this. It happens.
(c) It's a full-on judgement call; and
(d) it's none of his fucking business.
I went to The Ship Of Fools for a pint and a calm down. Whilst I was there, I asked the head chef about the flat he's been talking about letting out to me for the last month. The flaky tosspot said it would be at least another week, possibly two, and the rent might go up. The shallow twat was more than happy for Busty Farm Girl to move in straight away; but palms me off with excuses, and doesn't even do this until I go and confront him face-to-face a few days after each time I was pencilled to move in. This did no good for my mood.
I wasn't so desperate to move out until this happened. Rent at the Odd Couple's is absolutely minimal, but I'm wondering if living with them comes at too great a cost. It would be easily to intellectually stomp on the Odd Male; but I feel that I can't while I'm in his house. Yesterday I was ready to pack up my room, load my car, and go and punch him right in his self-righteous motherfucking face by way of notice. It's no good for the soul. The Sweet Ecologist lives by herself, so I can fully see that - assuming things stay on course there - I may be ducking out a lot in future.
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13.6.05 14:54
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I wouldn't normally blog my
...dreams, but the one I had this morning was fairly noteworthy. In between all of the cutting off legs with meat cleavers (someone else) and telekinetically making people's bones implode (me, starting with their shoulders), there was a stirring performance of 'Hungry Eyes' by one of my friends and three others, complete with dance routine. Excellent. In other news, if the Odd Male offers me any more 'hot tips' whilst giving me petty orders, he will himself be receiving a hot tip. In a brand new orifice I will create just for the occasion. Ooh - it all went a bit failure there for a moment. I declare today to be Violence Wednesday.
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15.6.05 09:39
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I went to visit
...Smiley Surf-Shop Gal over lunch. Here's part of the conversation (abridged) :
Smiley Surf-Shop Gal : Did you hear about the crash [near our village] ?
Lemonsquash : I did.
Smiley : It was on the [national] news. [Our village] was mentioned. Isn't that exciting ?
Lemonsquash : That *is* exciting. Was anyone hurt ?
Smiley : I think everyone involved was a bit hurt.
Lemonsquash : Anyone we know ?
Smiley : You know that new guy from [a local pub] with the white sports car ? It was his car involved.
Lemonsquash : Oh my god. I rubbed my naked ass on that car a couple of weeks ago.
Smiley : You what ? Why ?
Lemonsquash : It seemed funny at the time.
Smiley : Well, it looks like bad luck rubbed off it.
Lemonsquash : It's the Ass Of Doom.
Smiley : You'd better not wiggle that naked ass anywhere on me, mister.
[Lemonsquash chases Smiley Surf-Shop Gal around the shop, ass first]
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15.6.05 15:46
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The news editor had
...a phone call yesterday from a peturbed lady. She explained how her dog had been angrily barking at her hedge in the night. She was too afraid to go out and see what was bothering her pooch so, so she called the police. When the friendly neighbourhood fuzz arrived, they went to investigate. The dog had gone into the hedge, and its mouth was bloodied. Further inspection revealed that the cause of the mutt's consternation and injuries was a hedgehog. The police declared the 'case' closed.
The lady was furious. "What are you going to do about it ?" she demanded; "The police did nothing. What do you intend to do ?"
"Er... also nothing ?" replied the news editor; "It was just a hedgehog."
"Do you not think this is suspicious ? We never get hedgehogs in our garden. It was obviously planted there."
Presumably by the same pernicious conspirators that have obviously been throwing birds over her garden, and impregnating her soil with worms.
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16.6.05 09:48
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I have been thinking
...about a New Look for this blog. Not just a New Look, but an entirely New Angle. The format is now stale and uninspiring, so it's time to rezestify the Lemonsquash experience. I am as yet undecided as to what route to take leading us into the year 2005-and-a-half. Here are some concepts I've been toying with :
- Ask Uncle Squash - a 20Six problem page where bloggers enquire about their personal sexual problems, proclivities or deviations, and be dealt with in a sensitive, sage and thoughtful fashion. I feel that I am perfectly qualified for this (ooh... this sounds a bit like a CV, doesn't it ?) as - now that I sort of have a ladyfriend - I am clearly superior, and perfectly within my rights to condescend people with lives less fulfilling than mine. All submissions come with the Lemonsquash Guarantee™* that the subject matter will not be placed in Lemonsquash's wank-bank for later use.
- Diod Ffrwythau Lemwn - like regular Lemonsquash... Only in Welsh.
- Jizzy Sluts - photos of trouser-straining honeys, such as Scabby Titpus, Flabby Titspuzz and Rabbi Titsuck.
- Blogging one's lunch, and detailing one's hangover seems popular amongst some other bloggers. By virtue of the regularity with which such entries surface, I can only conclude they are very popular, and as such A Good Thing To Do. I want in.
- I could go political.
- I quite fancy becoming a goth.
- I've been working on a web-based cartoon for a while now. It features the unfeasible adventures of a reptile and an aquatic rodent. I was thinking of calling it... Oh, hang on... Fuck.
Any other suggestions, me hearties ?
*Not a guarantee.
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16.6.05 15:25
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I have a story to
...tell. An epic, heartbreaking yet life-affirming tale; doused in tragedy, dripping with pathos... Yet one in which the evil forces at work are defeated, and love triumphs over adversity.
But it's gonna have to wait. I've got to go and take a photo of a new town clerk. I mean, really.
In the meantime, you can have a cut and paste from an email I got from Nooma this morning :
I was late for work this morning and I am enraged. It is as though somebody has taken out an advert in EVERY 'community diary' in the country, stating "Do you own a tractor? Do you like driving slowly? Then why not pop down to [The Heavy Petting Zoo] at just after 9am on Friday 17th June- where all like-minded, slow driving tractor owners will be meeting to discuss the merits of driving slowly in their tractors. Tea and sandwiches provided."
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17.6.05 10:31
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A girl shows up at
...an Indian restaurant at about five to nine. She's hungry. And a little excited. She has a date. It's been a long day, and a curry, some pleasant chat and maybe a cuddle is the least she deserves. Her date hasn't shown yet. But she's five minutes early. She waits for him outside. Ten minutes pass. He's only a little late. She feels a touch awkward that she has to go in by herself; but she does so, and asks for a table for two and a beer. Another ten minutes pass, and she starts to feel increasingly uncomfortable. She pretends to check her phone. She's not really checking her phone as her batteries have run out. She just doesn't want to look like a loser. She starts feeling increasingly self-conscious. He's now more than half an hour late. She decides she's too hungry to wait any longer, and forlornly orders a take-away. For one. Ten minutes later she is given her meal. The waiter looks at her sympathetically, and offers that the guy that's stood her up is clearly a tosser, and doesn't deserve her. She leaves. Her heart is in the floor. ***** Fifty minutes earlier, he arrives outside an Indian restaurant. He's ten minutes early. He sits on top of the metal casing for some meter or other, and swings his legs. At about one minute to nine, he is approached by a man who looks like he's probably in his fifties, but has aged badly. He has a lot of dried blood on his beaten right ear. He's drunk. The drunk tells him of how he was chucked by his wife after she caught him having sex with her twin sister. He doesn't believe a word of it, but smiles, nods, and indulges him. After a few minutes of slurring, the drunk leaves, bidding him a good night, and a subsequent good life. It's about a quarter past nine. He has tried to call his date, but she's not answering her phone. He is approached by the owner of the Indian restaurant, who bemoans the fact that his nephew has given his car a very impressive ding, and how the damage would have been severely mitigated had he been driving a Land Rover. He goes on to extoll the virtues of Land Rovers for another five minutes. When the owner returns indoors, he tries to call his date again. No luck. When his date is forty minutes late, he starts thinking that this situation is ridiculous, and wonders if she hasn't gone to the wrong restaurant. After all, Taj... Raj... it's an easy mistake to make. So he drives to the Taj, and looks in through the windows. Unbeknownst to him, she left within a couple of minutes before. ***** Ok, I'll stop talking about myself in the third person, shall I ? When the Sweet Ecologist and I finally met outside the Raj (the one I'd been sitting outside) at about quarter to ten, we were both tired, annoyed, very tense, and as hungry as motherfuckers. We were both fairly adamant that the other had gone to the wrong restaurant. I ordered a take-away. Although we couldn't be annoyed at each other - as it was quite clearly a basic misunderstanding - we were both pretty fucked off. I tried to remain jovial, and make light conversation. She hid her chagrin less well. There was a bit when I took her hand to try and comfort her, and she instantly took it back. It wasn't the easiest situation. So I let her read the paper rather than make her talk to me. We went back to the Odd Couple's. It was well past ten by this point, but rather than allow us to eat our curry in peace, the Odd Female came and spoke at the Sweet Ecologist in boring detail about her departmental applications. When we finished our food, I suggested we go for a walk... Sweet Ecologist : Er... I don't know. Do you want to go for a walk ? Lemonsquash : I think it might be nice. Odd Female : And I bet she's thinking 'why would I want to go for a walk with you' ? I don't understand how the Odd Female didn't realise that she was totally exacerbating an already incredibly awkward situation by being a total social retard. I mean, how can you not know ? We left the house, and I concluded that the date really couldn't have gone more disasterously, short of melodrama. ***** We went to The Ship Of Fools. We had some beer. She relaxed. I relaxed. I made her a big, strong coffee. She became excitable and silly. By this point, the mood had lifted totally. She decided she wanted to see my room. I decided that I very much wanted her to see my room. She got over-excited that I had the first Nine Inch Nails album, and a bunch of Stone Roses stuff she didn't have. We put on some music, and snogged like sixteen-year-olds, and giggled at the prospect that my parents (sorry... the Odd Couple) might be able to hear us. ***** He was about to go to a Nirvana reformation gig. This was interesting, not in the least as he was looking forward to seeing how Kurt would deal with his obvious handicap. He was robbed of this by his alarm. Someone rolled on top of him kissed him, and told him to go back to the concert. She then slipped away, and he drifted off again.
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17.6.05 14:50
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