

Oh yum, now I want a big chunk of brie.
Go on go on go on go on go on
Oh yum, now I want a big chunk of brie.
Britain’s favourite crisp flavour. Here, you’re weird for not liking them.
In the staff fridge at work someone used to label their milk as “breast milk” and people would go eeeww. Like it was snot or something. But from a cow’s breasts? Fine! So weird.
Unlimited garlic bread, yay!
I found it on the internet.
This felt close, in a way: in May 2014 I flew UK to NZ on Malaysian Airlines. One of their planes had gone missing in March that year, so I came in for some joshing over my choice. I flew out of NZ on 22 July. The Kuala Lumpur-Amsterdam leg had a slight change of flight path because on the 17th a Malaysian plane on that route was shot down over Ukraine.
(I felt so sorry for the air crew - some of them may have lost friends and colleagues on those flights, and here they were, smiling away and bringing us drinks.)
Good chunks of my youth. When I look back I think, those kids were not your friends.
Are unfertised human eggs a thing? Like, the chicken eggs we eat aren’t fertilised. I’m imagining something like an ostrich egg. Lots of omelette in that … um, definitely-not-a-baby.
One of my favourite eggcorns.
Egg colour is down to genetics - some breeds, eg leghorn, lay white eggs. Others lay various shades of brown. It’s what’s inside that counts, and that depends a lot on what you feed a chicken.
“The proof is in the pudding.”
The actual phrase is: “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”
It means that your dessert might look and smell delicious, but if you fucked up the recipe, say by using salt instead of sugar, then it will taste bad. You won’t know for sure until you eat it. So, a plan might look good on paper but be a disaster when implemented.
“The proof is in the pudding” doesn’t mean anything.
I’m in my 70s, soooo pretty much everything I own. Sigh.
Breakfast at Tiffany’s. The first revelation was that the romantic leads were pretty much BOTH prostitutes. And then that horrendous turn by Mickey Rooney as a Japanese man!
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Breakfast_at_Tiffany’s_(film)
Also the musical Gigi. More prostitution, this time with a mother grooming her daughter to enter the profession, while her client Maurice Chevalier croons “Thank heavens for little girls.”
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gigi_(1958_film)
I saw both these films as a child and had no clue.
I bet it’s bacon. The siren song of sizzling bacon always drags me away from vegetarianism in the end.
Photo editing and uploading, maintaining my sports club’s website, video calls to family members, watching films and TV. Do word puzzles count as gaming? I do Quordle and Octordle every morning. I also have an ancient laptop running Linux; I’m trying to work myself up to switch the computer over come October.
Everyone has sleep paralysis every time they dream. It’s a mechanism that stops you acting out your dreams. What happens occasionally is that you come out of the dream state enough to become aware of being paralysed. You’re not awake, so your unconscious mind is grappling with the horror of paralysis.
My own experiences were nightmares where I was being threatened by an unseen figure, but couldn’t move to escape. I had a lot of them, some really horrible. Then I read an article with the above explanation, and I haven’t had one since. It was like once my unconscious knew what was going on, it stopped freaking out.
Years ago I had a job where we had a “graveyard” shift. It was a solo gig, started at 11pm and finished at 7am when the morning shift took over. You’d work it for seven days and then have seven days off. We shared the shift, so that everyone did it a few times a year. You’d think with seven days off it would be popular, but no. No-one wanted it.
I hated it. The worst part was the isolation. There were duties to carry out, but it was mainly checking things. Alone. It was difficult to sleep when I got home and it messed with my head, I felt like a zombie. I’d meet up with friends in the evening and struggle to make conversation. It took up to five days to recover. Very, very unhealthy.
More recently I worked mostly 5pm to 2am, and that was much more manageable. We were a team, and we often met up during the day for sports or a movie. It was awkward socialising with other friends though; I’d be working when they weren’t.
I had that exact conversation with a friend the other day, almost word for word. Spooky.
It was when I tripped and fell over outside my house. The next day my neighbour said, “I hear you had a Fall.”
Yes, when you’re old you don’t fall over, you “have a Fall”. Everyone hearing about your Fall will make concerned noises. (I was perfectly fine! I’m not OLD old!)