Friday, 3 July 2009

The Belgian Waffle Slumbervale Retirement Community

I was trying to write about how I behave like an idiot child when drunk and how a whole day without breaks in an airless meeting room on the Corridor of Ennui discussing strategic approaches to database subscriptions was a disproportionately horrible punishment worthy of Mother Knox herself. But I found that with 3 hours sleep and still sweating the screwtop wine ordered by Paris Colleague at 2am with the only stipulation that it should be "pas trop cher et pas trop fruité", writing whole sentences with doing words and joining words is hard, so hard. There must be plenty to say about the fact that we had been corralled into a small room to "identify low hanging fruit", but all I can manage is a sort of guttural barking noise like a cat with a furball.

So instead I am doing that stupid ass irritating thing where I tell you what M and I have been talking about. She fucking hates it because then she has nothing new or interesting (yes, shut up) to read, and everyone else probably thinks it is pointless and unfunny and I should fuck off and get a work ethic. But I have only slept THREE hours, even the membranes in my eyes smell like cheap white wine, I have a blogging compulsion disorder, and this is the only thing that made me laugh today. And did I SAY I was your PERFORMING POODLE M? Hmm? No. Now get bloody fattening up, I'm hungry.

M: Read this: it is a cautionary tale IT COULD BE US

E: WHY are you sending me phallus house again?

M: It is funny

E: How could it be a cautionary tale for us? A penis on the roof?

M: The old woman, dead for 5 years, in her house not found by anyone. Whoops I sent you the wrong link . WE WILL DIE ALONE like harpies. Heartless harpies.

E: Mouais, I suppose. Whatever. But? We will be DEAD and not care. I will not care about my old bones dessicating in a corner. But anyway, I have an even better idea. We can live in a shared retirement house for elderly harpies. Whoever dies first eats the other No. that's wrong. The other way around.

M: I don't want to eat you you're all bones and gristle and what not.

E: S'ok. I'll be eating you anyway.

M: hell no


M: I'm dying after you, dude you are OLDER THAN ME therefore more likely to die first.

E: But I am more bitterly evil and evil is a preservative. Also you like cheese.

M: Oy! I'm not living with you in Harpy House if you're going to dispose of me. That's totally against the house rules.

E: There are house rules? Ok I won't eat you. Much. I'll just nibble your face off like the face transplant lady.

M: Of course there are rules. Rule 1: One pony per room . Rule 2: Cake for every meal. Rule 3: no killing housemates. Simple, effective.

E: Noone admitted without a cashmere goat.

M: Yes. Baby cashmere goats only.

E: Dirty dishes must be thrown out of windows to be licked clean by baby pygmy hippos.

M: Who needs dishes? We will only eat brown food. Crispy brown food that requires no plates.

E: Dishes are a bourgeois construct anyway.

We continued in this happy vein for sometime, and now I think we should open this harpy house up to everyone. Everyone we like, anyway. It's the way ahead, you know, self funded individual retirement communities of like-minded friends. Everyone's doing it, just wait a couple of weeks and it will be in Grazia, I know my stuff I am a trend hound.

Would you like to join the Belgian Waffle Retirement Community? It will of course be based in Belgium, there will be no crockery, every room comes with its own pony and if you die we might just conceivably eat your face off. If you do wish to take up the once in a lifetime offer of a place at this friendly community for your sunset years, just give me an additional suggested house rule in the comments box. MonkAre, if you say "it's nice site keep updating", I will invent a new house rule which will be that the Holy Tortoise will be coming all the way to Bali to penance up your ass.

Ugh. That made no sense, did it? Here, look at a photo of some ugly bread.

It's magic eye bread. If you stare at it for long enough eventually you make out the message - cunningly concealed in the chocolate - that reads GO TO BED EMMA.


M. said...

Hey! You never said anything about the Harpy House being in Belgium. I want out. I'll risk my face getting eaten off in a real retirement community.

redfox said...

I like that the face eating will be done by nibbling. So dainty.

The Spicers said...

I'm submitting my application for the retirement community. In my favor, I'm quite fat and likely to die young. And I LOVE pygmy hippos. I think there should also be capybaras.

Mr Farty said...

"Whoever dies first eats the other."

Fecking zombies.

A Woman Of No Importance said...

I want to book my place now, ma cherie - I shall be a founding member... sounds cool to me so long as we don't have to watch Jean Claude Van Damme films, or read Hercule Poirot stories... But there should be Belgian Biere, Moules and Chocolat on tap - 'Kay?! All hail the Holy Tortoise TM xox

Artichoke Queen said...

I'm in. My suggested rule is that the shoe closet should be communal. As should the library. But could we reconsider the location? Perhaps somewhere where the yellow orb appears a bit more often? Merci Chérie.

WV is mulies, further supporting the shoe idea, though with a thumping lack of current style...

Mya said...

I'm in too - but only if I can be stairlift monitor. I'd also like total responsibilty for the drugs cabinet, and the male nurses are to wear thongs. Perhaps Weepette could come along and visit - domestic animals are known to enrich the lives of old gits - although there's a danger he could get eaten.And it can't be in Belgium - that's just rubbish. It will be in Monaco.

Mya x

emily said...

im in please, my rule being that no one is allowed to scold anyone for their poor eating habits, as i think that most people who read/comment (including me) have an odd attitude towards nourishment by conventional standards!

Lucy Fishwife said...

Will it be like the strange obscene old ladies in "The Wicker Man" (orig version natch)? Or more like the OOOHHH YOUNG MAAANN ladies in Harry Enfield? If so I bagsy be the one who gets to say "OOOOOHH il a carrement le tete d'un jeune Halliday, innit!!"
Oh and I also bagsy the box of violet creams.

fabhat said...

I'm in and just have a couple of suggestions...

Can we have duel souped up stair lifts - so we can have races - like human scaletrix?

Also - no requirement for morning conversation, and a large and varied drinks cabinet for mixing hemlock martinis and their ilk.

Red Shoes said...

Ahhh, I'm so in. I agree totally about communal shoe closet and library, of course. I'm also completely happy with it being in Belgium as I imagine Brussels to be a half mad, half magical place and I intend to be the old woman with vulgar hair who wears coats made of hair with Margiela bodysuits and flesh colored thigh high boots despite being so sagging and wrinkled that no one can bear look at me. My eye makeup will never be removed, only piled on thicker atop the remnants of the previous day's application each afternoon. I will smoke clove cigarettes like a chimney and drink Sazeracs and nibble faces all day.

My rule is that the cake and crispy brown things must be served on the backs of baby animals, as the osteoporosis from a lifetime of inadequate nutrition is sure to have us all stooped over too far for upright eating.

Juci said...

Count me in. I vote for Mya's Monaco idea. What do I have to offer? I have a solid library (don't worry, most of it is in English, not Hungarian), and I'll be designated driver whenever we decide to go out on a thrilling night on the town. Oh, and I'll play the organ at the Sunday morning services. No? Not even a secular one, administered by his Holy Tortness?

Elsie said...

I will reach retirement age a bit ahead of you, so will prepare and update the House with MonkAre and any other skellys who drop by. We will practice nibbling until you arrive with your posse/entourage.

Grit said...

crisps. lots of crisps. bathfulls of crisps. i want to die happy.

@eloh said...

I'm in, I do think a delegation should look into the exact location. Just in the previous stated Mexico makes more sense weather and monetary wise, however you can't beat the Europeans for letting their weird hang out. It would be a hard one.

Oh, and I too smoke clove ciggies and I want to wear opera gloves and no underwear.

Sinda said...

We must be able to twitter to one another from adjacent rooms, or even the same room, if necessary.

Also, we must only eat snacks, no proper meals, please. Oh, and sweets, OF COURSE.

peevish said...


oystergirl said...

I'm in as well. Completely agree with the communal library and shoe closet. Cocktail hour must commence immediately on the dot of 5 p.m. I volunteer to make the vodka martinis, but people can only have them dry. Fully loaded drinks cart. I am voting for Paris ( with a wonderful garden in the back, bien sur) or Italy.

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