I woke up at 10.50 a.m. this morning. I don’t really like waking up that late. My teenage self loved it, but now I find myself irritated when I look at the shadow on the building across the way and can see that it’s past 9.30 a.m. I do, though, enjoy that I’m getting good at working out the time from the shadow; I can pretty much guess within 20 minutes before checking a clock. I wish I could tell you an exciting reason why I slept late, but sadly I cannot. I was watching 2001: A Space Odyssey for the third time in a week. I hadn’t intended to watch it more than once, but each of the subsequent times, I skipped the apes, and went straight to the Blue Danube spaceflight bit, because I adore that piece of music, and adore looking at the spaceships graciously floating through space.
And every time I watch it, I’m convinced I will understand it a bit more than last time. That never happens. I still don’t really get the Jupiter and Beyond the Infinite bit. One day…
I wasn’t tired, so flicking around the Guardian site, I watched the wee video of Paul Morley talking about Christmas music, which lead me to checking out the Wikipedia page for Slade’s Merry Xmas Everybody, which lead me to checking out lots more pages about Slade. By the time I’d done that, I noticed it was 3.40 a.m., so turned off the computer, turned off the light, and went to sleep.
When I woke up, I had a dead hand. I’d been sleeping on my front with my hand curled underneath, kind of in that position one would do as a child when one wanted to imply that someone was behaving like, ahem, a spaz. To the bathroom, as is normal when one wakes, and I lift the toilet lid, and my dead hand can’t hold it. It was kinda silly to see my hand being useless. Anyway, I saw something awesome when I began urinating. (I’m not talking about my johnson.) I’m talking about pareidolia. And, I think, this is something any (standing) urinating man can do. I’m sure a standing urinating woman could give it a go, but I don’t know how exact woman can be with their stream. (I’ve totally set it up so woman can do the thing where they talk about men not being able to piss straight and hitting the rim, seat, or floor, haven’t I?) Back to the topic in hand, as it were. If your toilet is the shape where the surface of the water kind of forms an upside-down egg shape, you can do this. You’re gonna need a full bladder to get it going perfectly. Aim your stream of piss just above the middle of that egg shape. If you imagine the egg is a face, you’re pissing just above the eyebrows. Okay, there’s lots of bubbles forming around the far edge of the water, and it’s coming around the sides, too, right? So, the top has a load of pissy bubbles, and the sides have less pissy bubbles, and there really shouldn’t be any in the middle or at the bottom. You know what it looks like? I’m gonna tell you, cos if you’ve not already gone for a piss to have a guess, you’ll be doing so imminently. The piss bubbles look like… Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction!
That was pretty much the highlight of my day, although the pretty woman in Starbucks writing “Have a nice day!!!” on my cup does come pretty close.
This is the first lengthy piece of text I’ve written using the iPad. Up until now the only time I’ve used the onscreen keyboard is for quick emails or tweets. Honestly, I don’t enjoy typing on the iPad at all. Partly, I guess, because I’m not yet used to the size of the keyboard, being somewhere in the middle of a handheld tiny keyboard and a regular laptop keyboard. My finger memory hasn’t developed the right patterns yet. But also, the size of the iPad makes it difficult, I think, to ever feel particularly comfortable doing it. I can’t hold it like a phone and use two thumbs to type. If I’m sat, I kind of have to put my knees close together, raise the heels of my feet and hunch over it. And to use it while lying on the bed isn’t comfortable at all; one has to bend the wrists to a point where it’s a bit painful and you look like a frozen-in-ice arthritic witch.
On top of that that the WordPress app is absolute shite. My typing is slow, but it’s way faster than the words appear on screen, and when that happens I notice a lot more “autocorrectos” occur. (That’s my own silly name for typo-style mistakes coming from autocorrecting errors.) The worst part of the WordPress app, though, is using it when the device is landscape. In portrait, there’s a simple blank page to type into; in landscape, there’s a sidebar with a list of previous blog posts. Several times during writing this post, my hand has brushed against that sidebar and tapped an old blog post into the active right section of the screen. Annoying enough; but there’s no autosave, so unless I tapped the save button every sentence or so, I’ve lost a bunch of writing. That first paragraph at the top of this post: I rewrote it four fucking times because of that. So this is the first, and possibly last, blog post written using the app. At least until some intrepid app reviewers tell me it has improved. Another thing about all this typing in an unnaturally hunched position is it makes me wanna shake my hands awake now. Still, First World problems like this aren’t real problems are they?