Time depends on which side of the bathroom door you are on. ("Tristan! Get out of the bathroom..quick!"). With all the flu that has been circulating around Britain lately, my thoughts of bathroom visitations have been all the more frequent.
So as the sweat drips onto my keyboard, I present to you my very own 'Bog blog'. To those of you who may have wandered onto this site and wondered what I mean by 'bog', let me explain. In Britain a bog is not only a swamp, marshland or wet, spongy ground, it is also a colloquialism for toilet. So 'bog' is to toilet in Britain as 'can' is to toilet in North America. Thus in Britain, toilet paper may be called 'bog roll', whilst in North America the same product may be called 'a** wipe' (think I'd better leave it at that). I'm getting 'bogged down' here..I blame it on the fact I'm typing whilst feeling pretty darn awful. Well, that's my excuse anyway.
I was in the shop the other day and noticed a brand of bog roll that boasted it was 'new and improved'. I most certainly hope so. I mean, can you imagine a brand bragging about it being 'used and improved'? However, it has got me to thinking about what the heck they mean by recycled toilet paper. Yes indeed, the mind 'bog'gles.
Today I ventured out to do a few errands. I had a brief chat with someone that proves just how well we actually listen. As I stood there, sniffling, sneezing and coughing, this person proceeded to ask: "How are you?" I responded: "If the truth be known, I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller, an angry woodpecker is tapping on the top of my head and my stomach is like the spin cycle on my mashing machine. Other than that, I'm okay." The reply: "Oh that's nice, I'm feeling pretty good myself." Hmmmm....
This 'sick' blog is nearly over. I'm too knackered (tired) to do much more. So I leave you with, yet again, some random thoughts. I was watching a dating agency commercial on television. The ad assured me that if I did not get a date within six months, they would give me another six months free. Oh fantastic! Another six months of misery and humiliation. There you go loser, we're gonna' prolong your agony. Tomorrow, I am going to put £1o worth of petrol into my 'mid-life chrisis, divorce mobile'. That will fill it up to empty. In the good ol' days, £10 would fill it up to nearly empty. That's it then. My bog blog is over and I'm feeling kinda' 'flushed'. Sorry it was such a silly blog. The flu made me type strange stuff....which is, ofcourse, way out of character.
"Tristan!? Are you still in the bog, can, toilet, or whatever the heck we call it?" "I only just got in here Dad." Time does indeed depend on which side of the bathroom door you are on.