Rather a ho hum sort of day so far.

Rather a ho hum sort of day so far.  I sit here at my table puffing my pipe.  No, wipe the bong-hugging hippies out of your mind; I’m not smoking that sort of pipe!  I’m in desperate want of cigarettes, or any sort of fundage with which to buy more.  So, my old briar friend must carry me through to brighter times. 

Ho hum also in light of the point that I’ve been working  (Note: that’s the regular, life-sustaining, not-very-interesting, job-related sort of work) a bit more than I’m accustomed to.  If I remember correctly, my last day off was Saturday the week before last.  I’m sure I’ll appreciate the extra days and hours immensely once I am paid, for the moment however, I find it slightly beyond tiresome.  Especially without my orange and white carcinogen sticks.

I did find comfort in Shakespeare’s Henry IV. How many ways can you call a man a penis, or tell him he’s not so very well hung? Falstaff manages it like so:

{Falstaff to Prince Hal.}  ‘Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, you bull’s sizzle, you stockfish- O for breath to utter what is like thee!- you tailor’s yard, you sheath, you bowcase, you vile standing tuck!

Hal then very quickly tells him to storm to his heart’s content, catch his breath, storm some more, then once he’s tired, to listen well. 

It’s a lovely scene, and what’s more, it’s a lovely scene in one of the plays I don’t know nearly enough about as a whole. 

So yes, some comfort there.

©  Jeffrey Puukka, 2009