Wednesday, October 26, 2005

George's Marvellous Medicine

George's Marvellous Medicine

There are a number of things which have made me happy this week. Chocolate muffins at work. Robbie Williams's new album. Cracking my connection to Sienna Boho-Princess in only three degrees of separation. And, possibly most importantly, the arrival of a stork with a laptop sized bundle. Admittedly the stork more closely resembled a courier company than an actual stork, but then don't try to tell me that babies come courtesy of actual storks either. And if you're wondering why I'm using this metaphor let's get one thing straight: I get a laptop or I get a baby*. I plumped for the laptop** on balance given that it'll be considerably less likely to vomit on me and should be more use in writing my masterpiece. Not to mention I could order it over the internet. Try that with a baby and I think you get arrested.

But the laptop arrived and I was confronted by its shiny black skin and baby laptop smell. I felt unconditional love. And rather a lot of fear in case I dropped it on its head. Then came the mystery as to whether it was a girl or a boy. After examining it I went with my gut instinct. The laptop is no Boho-Princess. It's more a slightly quirky Brit Actor in waiting. Given that I haven't had the time to pour over name books, the choice came down to the first ones in my, obviously warped brain, Feste or George. On balance I decided that Feste was too much of a name of the moment. No one wants to be saddled with a passing fashion fade of a name after all. So George it was because I know I'm not going to slip that into any of my future children's names****.

Unwrapped, named and fed with an electrical supply it was time for George and I to bond. Cue much transferring of files, faffing with desktop and generally cementing our future relationship. George also took it upon himself to demonstrate what he could provide as a screensaver, my having uploaded the photos off of my desktop.

It is, needless to say, somewhat worrying what George's random selection of 'my pictures' brings up. Indeed I'm considering whether I need to report my computer for zooming in on the collected works of the Zu Bar Swindon. Before I'd said as much as 'hello' I was presented with a close up of Griffin's crotch. And I didn't even realise that I'd even saved that on my computer. After a couple of pictures that made me 'awww' - whitby camping, radio touring, standing in front of the fountaining - George went back to the Swindoning. I had to overt my eyes, it's a bloody 15" screen after all (flattering if you're wondering). Even the subsequent appearance of Ginny and The Globe couldn't rescue matters. I have a pervert for a laptop*****.

*So this is not technically true, I only want a baby when I see fancy wellies. Or am drunk. Or a combination thereof.

**Because let's get this straight, whatever drunken Griffin might think, I do not have a baby***

***Though even I can see the irony of my having this conversation with Griffin of all people.

****Though George's namesake's more famous name might make a not-so-subtle appearance in there.

***** No one say anything.

2 comments:

cat said...

congratulations! this metaphor could run and run!

gayle said...

You may call it a perversion, others may see it merely as good taste...