"Your breakfast is ready." She's been up for over an hour now.
"I didn't ask you to make me breakfast."
I am that much of an asshole in the morning. I groan and roll over, without a note of thanks. She tries to rouse me a couple more times before I gradually start to sit up, the implication that I'm doing her some kind of favour in undertaking this strenuous task writ large all over my face. I grunt a little and frown at her. She brings breakfast to me.
POP TARTS!!!
Everything changes now. Pop Tarts are the kind of breakfast that should always be followed by exclamation marks. We never had them for breakfast in my home when they first came out about sixteen or seventeen years ago, being far too sensible (or "poor", as I understood it) to spend that kind of money on breakfast. They are awesome. I recline back in the bed and start munching, crumbs going all over my chest and onto her sheets. "These are awesome," I say, continuing my morning policy of saying exactly what comes into my head. "I had a conversation with my second year class yesterday about how awesome they are. They're awesome."
I leap up and head to the bathroom for my morning tinkle and beauty regime. My hair needs a little fixing - last night's attempt at a white man 'fro has left a few odd kinks in it. I come back and give her a long, slow kiss. Unfathomably, she lets me do this. "Ready to rock now?" I ask chirpily, putting on my shoes swiftly in the full knowledge that she's been ready to leave for about fifteen minutes now. But even she is shocked by the speed of this transformation.
I decide to sing her one of the few songs I know all the lyrics to as we walk along. I imagine she's pleased, though her face betrays nothing right now. We get to her bus-stop and I do my annoying clingy thing. My morning lethargy has made me miss my first lecture of the day and may very well see her slightly late to work.
She gives me a hug and grins. "I need to find a way of getting sugar into you before you wake up."
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
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21 comment(s):
Dude, I love your relationship.
I'm trying to repunctuate your tags to fit the post better. I think "HAPPY I, LIKE IDIOT" captures your childish excitement quite nicely.
("HAPPY? I LIKE IDIOT" is terribly amusing but much too insulting)
Thanks, Annie, so do I. All good with you?
Eli, I like your style. I was aware of those possibilities when tagging the post. I really need to devise a few more specific tags, but for some reason am loath to create a new one, somehow believing that the aexisting ones are the raw material I have been left with in life and that they must now suffice.
Tags are a bollocks. I have a rake of tags with only one post attached, and it's too much of a hassle to go through ten pages each time to see what ones I'm leaving out. Much too frivolous.
I think I've finally started losing my sweeth tooth. I got pop tarts last week and found them pretty rank! Start off alright but I couldn't finish them
Eli - yep, pretty pointless. Not sure why i bother with them at all, given that quite a few of my more recent posts don't have any tags. People rarely trawl through my archives anyway. Still, I'm hoping for one more glorious opportunity to use the 'Rufus Sewell hurt my testicles' tag in a legitimate manner.
JB - I thought i'd lose it long ago but if my old fella is anything to go by it's never gonna happen. As for the Pop Tarts, I think they key phrase here is "I couldn't finish them." You're allowed to just have one, y'know.
Tis nice that.
Mind she doesn't go injecting you with glucose syrup while you're sleeping.
they're an american thing right?
CLC - funny you should say that, she did mutter some vague threat about the gel they use to rub into diabetics' gums when they go into shock. It might be for the best, now i think about it.
B - Filled, toastable sweet pastries with icing on the outside for breakfast? They could only be American.
I was telling Herself about this and...er.. this gel, does it have a name?
My Herself's flatmate is diabetic, so I'll try to find out later. Though you might need something pesky like a prescription to get it.
ahhh ain't love grand.
I would not like to be to be the pharmacist standing between ma chère et tendre and some morning tranquility.
You're lucky, the only semblance of breakfast in bed my last bf got was a McDonalds hash brown that I tossed onto his chest.
Pop tarts don't do it for me anymore, but I don't mind Toaster Strudel when junking it up. Cherry =)
I hear Bono's missus did something similar for him right before he wrote that song. Ah what was it called?
Oh yeah Sunday Bloody Sunday, that's it.
Ah, that's lovely! Pop Tarts are super awesome. And it's not often I use the word awesome. But they deserve it.
Voodoolady - yep, it is.
CLC - I'm a little confused, is it you or her who needs the gel?
It's called hydro-dextrose gel, i believe.
SLIL - if it wasn't accompanied by a sausage and egg Mcmuffin he'd have had every right to throw it back at you.
narocroc - huh?
Kitty Cat - They're like, totally awesome. And stuff.
Oh she reckons it's me who needs it, but to be honest I'm quite happy being grumpy in the morning. I mean, I tried to explain to her that it's all part of the inter-woven web of charm that made her fall in love with me in the first place but she's not buying it. If this gel made me less grumpy in the morning then I sure as shit wouldn't want to the person telling her she can't have.
Andrew, they're not pastry! They're sugared cardboard.
At last you and Twenty have something in common, in your finding awesomeness in Poptarts.
Andrew, the Bono once sang "ain't love the sweetest thing". It was a (very) vague reference to that.
Obvious no?!?
you are a brilliant character.
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