Sunday, 17 June 2018

The museum night 2018


Been super tired from the vineyard ordeal (In fact dad called me yesterday morning, saying: I hear we’re going mushroom hunting!... And I cried: Dad, are you fucking kidding me, I can’t keep up with your schedule!...) so the day before yesterday was slow to close … But come Saturday, the tempo just picked up again. First I unexpectedly – usually I just ignore these kind of announcements – learned that catching Pokies gives you triple the XP and combined with the Lucky Egg, that means six times – and I learned this because someone’s put Lures on all of the Poke stops down a main Poke street, causing 20 or so Pokestops in line to rain pink petals … I grabbed a power bank from the kid and went out, and if you saw packs of (mainly adults) walking like lunatics, following their phones, phones connected to their backpacks with charge wires, then it was us. I made it to level during 31 (slow levels now, sloooow…) and even caught a five star rare during a tough raid. It was Larvitar hunting season, more than a 100 caught, five Shineys. Per Poke terms, that was a good day.
                Afterlunch I passed out and though G’s back is still problematic, we after-nap made out until the alarm sounded. Dad called to check when we’re randez-vous-ing, as I talked him into coming to town for the ‘Museum night’ – the night when all museums are open and free from six pm till midnight. Even G joined us, but the original plan for the two of them to go to the Contemporary (Modern) history to talk war and me to go check the glass exhibition then meet in the middle for the main event, kinda fell though. We started with the main event, because dad misunderstood there will be a live lecture. No matter, I know that museum by heart and I took them through the Roman and Pre-historic era. (Roman first because it’s in the basement of the building, where they dug up the Roman foundation and road.) G’s back no longer supported him, so he went home. Dad and I took a pause, he went to the bathroom and out to smoke, and then no longer wanted to proceed to the middle ages, to check out the new placements of the Counts of Cilli remains. We instead offed to the main city square where an 80-member ensemble of singers performed Carmina Burana’s most famous sentence (O Fortuna nad the like...).
                I notice, what with eighty people screaming like banshees and still making sense, that I can mostly tell what I am hearing if I LOOK at the performers. Not so much singers, because I don’t really like loud high notes and people seem to think that’s what makes a good singer: being super noisy and super pitchy, but the orchestra, the drummers and gong-bangers. (Gong, not gang.) I am extremely fond of percussion. But I need to watch it to hear it properly.
                After that dad was tired and I walked him to the car, checking via phone if any of my crowd is anywhere on the circuit. MyMaja took the kids to see the Short Animation, which is exactly where I wanted to go, but I got there a little too late and we just said hi, then parted. Another amazing expo – the lecture and the looped footage were a little too much, I was already getting overwhelmed, but the exhibited artwork was mesmerizing. I didn’t like when the lecturer kept stressing how some of these talented people went on to become super sold out and made a fuckload of money by working for companies nobody with eyes would consider art, as if that’s what creativity is about at all. But the rest of it, mind-blowingly good. Some of it really sad. But all of it really good.
                Though there were several other lectures, exhibitions, concerts and events and the hour was around ten-ish, the night warm and busy and perfect, I only had the energy to go to one more. (Nor was I that interested in seaside-way of life expo, per say, or erotic ‘moving statues’ or something of the sort. I have to admit seaside and sex don’t particularly interest me second-hand. I’m perfectly able to experience both without someone calling it.) The glass was fancy and very photogenic. I was hoping to be in company, so someone would shine a pen light through while I photographed it for extra effect, but I was alone and there was no need – the custodians did a great job. When are you going to fuck around with light if not when exhibiting crystal, eh? :D

 (*more pickies to come!!)

Friday, 15 June 2018

Baaah, two days of spraying the vineyard and this time without the General, who is still on sick leave: the kid stepped in. It took for eeever. Man, that was hard work. I ache all over. I insisted we spray twice as much as last time, because the weather kept fucking us over, drizzling and storming every so often and the infection - the peronosphora (Downy mildew) - already began to show on several plants, slowly spreading to adjacent ones up and down the terraces. With supper sunny mornings and damp rainy afternoons, the spread of mold or parasite like that is inevitable, and speedy. So, for a while I carried the buckets and Rockstar carried the monster-truck spray machine and then we switched a bit. The incline and wet grass are the worst bit - under such heavy loads 98% of energy goes to trying not to fall and break or slip something. We managed almost half yesterday and the rest today. People tend to severely underestimate General's effectiveness. That man is a titan, and a handy one at that. If he does the spraying and Rockstar and myself carry the buckets, we're finished in six hours.

Tuesday, 12 June 2018

Had to rest in a bath tub full of cold water to cool down today - it was nine in the morning and already my core temp was so nauseating, I was starting to shake and weep. I snapped at the counter girl at the library, because I had to sign the new privacy agreement - same as everyone else - but I hate signing things and if they were stealing my info before, they'll just keep stealing it on. The General filled the tub, then sprayed me with a cool shower until I stopped trembling. It's not even that hot outside, just so incredibly fucking humid. Am on a strict diet of ice coffee and ice-cream and some ice to boot. Most of sleeping takes place during the day, noon and early afternoon hours, and sex looks like we're ninety: slow, careful, with a minimum amount of touching. Our usual crazed fucking would probably give us both heart attacks within minutes. Everyone in the house showers, like, five times a day, just to feel fresh.

In other news, my hair has gone from the 'army dike with leukemia' phase into the 'toothbrush struck by lightning' phase. I look awesome! :D

This is either normal or an alien invasion :D
Storms every afternoon. From time to time I gotsta run across the lot to re-park the car to hide it from hail.

Saturday, 9 June 2018

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

MyMaja et moi REALLY needed to go see something, we haven't been to the movies in ages and for the love of god how hard is it to find a decent movie in a cinemaplex? ImpressionBlend was just saying she's looked down by some people for not having seen ALL excellent movies ever made, to which I commented: ye, but sometimes a whole month goes by without anything even remotely decent in the theatre and then at least you can fall back on a remarkable classic.

This shit is so bad. So dumb Disney. A movie about ungodly scientific advance and it's made for four year old children. Screaming dinosaurs and people running through an Edwardian mansion - ye, in the middle fo New fucking Yersey or something a little girl speaks with an English accent. But don't worry - MyMaja pointed out when she's picking a lock she uses a wire hanger. In a mansion owned by a billionaire, she has a wire hanger. She screams so fucking much the fact she's supposed to be a clone doesn't even register. In the end she lets the animals out, because they deserve to be free to kill as many people as possible, because they're alive, like she is.

Good fucking gods how dumb that film is. NOTHING happens, nothing. It's sooooo DULL. The little girl hides in her bed and the super dino walks into her room by opening a balcony vintage glass door - but a moment later, in all of 700 or so rooms, the hero comes to scream at it, so it's okay. The mercs use the smallest fucking calibre imaginable to just shoot the dinos, and the dinos just fall down instantly. Why didn't they at least ask a hunter how a rhino is hunted and what happens when you try to shoot it at close range? There's a scene in which a veteran hunter enters a cage, leaving it open, to extract a trophy tooth from an unknown species... Ye. That's exactly what you do when you're a pro hunter. Poke an unconscious prey.

Dumb, implausible and pathetic - and it didn't have to be! At all! SO much money went into the amazing CGI, the volcano was so cool, tragic and scary and so on, but NONE of the talent went into the script. The pyroclastic cloud only went as far as the shore, once they were on a boat leaving the isle it wasn't even windy. The actors were so terrible, cliche and over-done, the screaming geek, the butch vet chick (but not a vegan dyke, because it's Disney), the evil corporate greedy people ...

So, so bad. So bad.

Wednesday, 6 June 2018

"Seti is currently undergoing a difficult season: his ship is under riot. They are sailing right at the edge of known space and the waters are dark and nature of man is beastly."
"A mutiny, on his ship? Oh, no!What happened?"
"Oh, they were driving pass a brothel planet and he refused to slow down." That man is a genius in every form, but he simply excels in overestimating command people have over their dicks. 

Has there ever been a worse mental affliction than that of people wanting to say what they really think and feel? There must be something like fifty pills for that by now.

Metacritic's top picks...

I was thinking ... with the exception of Casablanca and Three Colors: Red, I haven't seen any of these movies. I am fully aware of the existance of them all, I've seen snippets or endings of some of them and I even agree that some are very good, but I've never been much for Citizen Kane, I hate the Godfather and Moonlight, well... Really? Best ever, flawless? They feel more like Academy circle jerk than anything else. Followed closely by Gone with the Wind, 12 years a slave and Zero Dark Thirty, which ... No.

Tuesday, 5 June 2018

"Tales from Persimmon" - ??

I've made for a midway brothel planet that features plenty in the novel, but it occurred to me to compile individual short stories that would stick to rules - one rule or fact to open for a story, like "... for three hours every eighteen days light reflected off larger of two moons passing, illuminating it into a dim, dull alternative to daylight: by Persimmon rules this was the beginning of a three-day maintenance period, during which most establishments were closed to service, their auxiliary units serving as hotels and spas rather than playhouses. Most of girls either took leaves of absence, retired for rest or helped with the cleaning and renovation, depending on their rota. Few secluded themselves to prayer, most visited the people they wanted to see off books. The men were all removed from floors and temples, but could help with janitorial chores if they so chose."

Thing is, true science fiction is dark, and bad. I don't mean poorly written or easily conveyed, I mean proper SF is one rung removed from anxiety horror and it gotsta leave you despondent and scared, as space is and as future should be. I can write messed up shit. I can close with heart-wrenching twists. All the glitter of characters filthy and moist. Instead of a seemingly nice place Persimmon  being rotten and infested with vile ambition, terrible truths burried under the floorboards. 

Am not sure I want to. Alien is only my second favourite SciFi - my favourite is Firefly. I want sex to be fun and space to be challenging. Not like tombs. Like mysterious new stripper that just started working, just when a hushed wind brought in the smell of money, gunpowder and blood. 

So do I make it decopunk or dieselpunk, is all I'm asking.


Monday, 4 June 2018

Off FB for a spell, banned, diminished to trolling on twitter like an amateur ...

Whether it was because I called our momentarily elected prime minister's party a Local Nazi Partia, or asked some dumb woman who took photos of Masai, praising their beauty, if these be the same Masai who fuck little girls, circumcise women and parade in shitty costumes in front of tourists for money? These could be just some of the possible reasons for my ban. I couldn't sleep last night, upset with the elections results, so i trolled plenty. I will probably be in more trouble down the road. But dad's proud of me for my mini manifesto :D After all, all of the things I've said were true. 

(Whoa, a 25% win in votes for the Local Nazi Partia? Now someone tell me people don't get the leaders we deserve. Who needs a ministry of culture(1), when you can purchase fake tanks(2) for a lame army(3) to rust in empty military yards(4)? Who needs a stable economy, if you can have corruption(5)? Who needs science if you can have the church(6)? Who needs human rights if you can treat asylum seekers as if they're less than people(7)? Who needs legalised abortion, prostitution, drugs and gay rights, if you can have barbed wire round and round the place(8)? Who needs fear human stupidity if you can fear your own government(9)? Who needs freedom of speech, if you can have 1984? Really, dudes, job well done.)

1 - They actually did this once, not too long ago, completely abolished the ministry of culture as redundant. 
2 - The guy who won with his party is known for fake purchasing a tremendous amount of amphibian tanks which came completely faulty and inoperable, yet he still got away with all of the purchase commission, which was absurdly substantial.
3 - No tank or gear at all the ministry of defence purchases, ever gets used in anything and slowly rusts away in depots until another fake purchase buys more of them for no reason
4 - The army is severely insufficient - not only lacking in numbers, because nobody wants to work there and people already working there have been employed so long they are all officers now - but we also don't meet even the basic international standards and perform sub par on evaluations
5 - Our politicians are not only notoriously corrupt, but it's public knowledge and they actively brag about it on air
6 - The elected party leader is known for trying to implement Christianity in schools and to merge the state and the church into one fine union, most of his followers being subject to long sermons by priests who claim liberal views will end the world and the hope for youth is to bring back the dark ages
7 - The election billboards for this party all warned from immigrants and the like - like trump and Putin and Jong-il sat down and sketched the themes
8 - To ward off the migrants of the past years, they pulled a barbed wire alongside some of the border - not that it did any good at all and it was never cleaned up - it just sits there now, killing animals
9 - The elected guy is famous for prosecuting everyone who speaks against him. i think while my dad was still a journalist, he got sued something like nine times until finally they shut his newspaper down.

I didn't go vote because I hate these people, but I genuinely didn't think world is this crazy. These lunatics have been jumping onto the throne for the past 30 years, every time doing something terrible, getting removed, even going to prison for a while if they got caught with their hands in the cookie jar, then they got out and sued the government - and even after all this time, a 25% demos goes and votes them into power. I am starting to lean heavily into Socrat's theory that gen pop is to fucking dumb to make decisions. It's actually scary.

Sometimes I feel like the world is getting faster and faster away from me. Only way I can catch up is to be really mean to strangers on Internet. #ElectionResults...

Thursday, 31 May 2018

Anyhoo, here's the forest poem from Insta.... (gotsta work on my cadence...)


My forest thoughts escape me now
I'm home, I'm fed and rested
But in the early breath of day
My forest was infested. (By me.)

I've sought out many secret spots
Be-known to mice and snails
The camera much crawling fought
In my pursuit of tales..

Aye, treasure mine, I hold you close, my cherished
These palaces of miniature
This universe of layerness
A shrine to all what's perished. 

Whence adulate is my all say
The tender awe a-trickled
From this wet, fast, serpent's tongue
Of mine, and of my people
 I'll wait for you, I'll find you near
I swear to you this season
The seeds you send into despair
Will lead me back to reason
 You are not grave, you are not ill
Your monsters praise their hunger
The prey salutes the destitute
hollow free of hunters
 Ah, cherished mine in layered cake
The fairest of your poisons rally
Am I a mouse or tree or speck
Within your verdant alley?
 I'm majesty, I know for sure
So did declare this fair ol 'shroom
But who are we to argue her
When kissing her is certain doom?
Do you like me now? asked broken bough
Will I be spokes on wheel?
Or will you burn me hot or craft me bent
Into un-forresty appeal?

Aww, I asked the General if he would mind if I signed up on a lesbian dating site to get some correspondence going, and he said: Yes, I do mind, you're married and at the moment it is not to a lesbian...

Is it weird his territorial restrictions totally turn me on right now? Adorable little Nazi pug :D

Wednesday, 30 May 2018

I think I may have been bitten by mosquitoes forty times. I am not joking. Those as I can see, my legs and arms, stomach and hips ... Dozens of spots. I'm cursing the overpriced fucking lemongrass all-natural grapefruit spray, but praising the 'soothing after sting' spray... everything itches. Everything. Like I had fucking measles. Like someone kicked me and I rolled into nettles.

Love, Simon

For some reason I'm watching Love, Simon - a coming-of-age movie about a cute teen kid whose big secret is *drumroll!* ... he's gay. Normally I would fucking hate a premise like that, because I antagonise teenagers and secrets and gays (except for the bit where I miss being a teenager, am gay and live a double life I really enjoy. But other than that.) I had a dream about it - a sequence of character arches coming to a closure of people either telling their circle their secret or some sort of closure (the strangest of which was two FBI agents setting the arrest of a picnic in which it turns out all the white-picket-fence families with elder 'aunts' actually treat those elder women as slaves. Don't ask. It's because of the L.Cohen line from Everybody knows: ... the deal is rotten, Old Black Joe still picking cotton for your ribbons and bows...

Long story short, I'm watching this teenage drama shit and I absolutely love how it's done. I haven't seen a teenage angst movie so devoid of pathos since The Edge of Seventeen. It's like Juno. It's adorable. 

Though dad declared a few days back his feet hurt too much to go mushroom hunting, he was roused by what mum and sis brought back and so today I snatched G's old SUV and grabbed dad and off we went, hayyoo. I wanted to open the season by combing the 'Belfry' hill, which mum said was too crowded. (It's a popular mushroom-hunting hill indeed.) He wanted anything but, so we drove around it and then parked in a tight niche of a forest road with an ascend as steep as a wall. Dad found some, but most were old and worm-y. After an hour or so, we got on top of that ascend to find ourselves on a meadow of an old, but renovated and most adorable small farm. I was so thirsty I rang their doorbell, eh, nobody was home. According to the GPS, we were half an hour away from the Belfry top. Based on an old wives' tales, if there's thunder, schroomies will jump out, once we actually got to the originally proposed stage, we found tons of tiny, new, fresh, worm-free little penny buns, and chanterelles. Circling until I could no longer walk and carry my stacked basket, we walked and walked and walked. Then we walked for another hour plus to descend the unfamiliar hillside, taking chances on unfamiliar short-cuts or wide roads. And then I took half an hour to find the damn car. I was so thirsty (normally we don't stray from the car for more than an hour and keep relocating, so of course my bag stayed in the trunk) I nibbled on the half-ripe blueberries I could find, scarce and tiny, like a desperate goat. The air was unusually unpleasant - it was not hot at all, yet we were soaked and mosquitoes chased me despite the spray. But all in all an excellent morning. The day would have been perfect if i could have ice-cream for dinner, but I was too sleepy to insist we go out, though the yummyness of Polonca's pistachios haunts me even as I write this :D

Wrote a forest poem to go with the pickies on Insta. Just stressin' what a nice forest day it was :p

Sunday, 27 May 2018

Aaaar, my comp died momentarily! I am so wingless without it! Well, the screen turned reddish and then black and I thought Ah, fikkish, there goes the screen. Or the graphics. Hopefully not the main drive. In the end, after a load of shuffling components around, it turns out it was the stupid screen cable. It hadn't even occurred to me that a cable can die. Nuts :D 

Yesterday we spent the whole day ... I don't know the word for it, but 'pouring honey'. That's not a metaphor, it's literally: G and his da were taking out the honeycombs (nigh 50 hives times ten honeycombs), Rockstar and Jan, the other cousin, were bringing them to the workplace (behind closed doors, because we'd be invaded otherwise), myself and brother-in-law were combing the wax off the top to open the honey cells and G's ma used centrifuge to get the honey pouring. Delicious honey, too, I couldn't stop licking it. I mean, everything was sweet and sticky, EVERYTHING in their house that day. Poor G got stung, despite the hasmat-looking suit, in the face and the knee. The knee one hurts like embers and the face one makes him look like Azog completely :D His eyes are tiny green peas and his forehead is huge :D He has not a single wrinkle on the entirety of his head :D :D :D Like botox gone terribly wrong :D He resents me from laughing every time I see him :D

This morn I woke early to see what I can do about the Pokemon gyms, pissed off the other day that all were the wrong colour and I had no chance to turn them - heavy hitters all - and even if I did, some moron would just kick me out after minutes, as alone I was simple enough prey. The guys on Discord assured me I'm free to turn gyms if they hold more than three, so I offed on the other side of the city to battle through the monastery yard. Twenty minutes later, almost succeeding, a glitch suddenly charged every last one of gym-stationed Pokies back to full health all across the map. I though I will burn down the damn cloister. But it was funny. An hour later, as I go home, the healths of all gym-stationed Pokies began to subside to their normal before-glitch numbers. The Gods of Pokemon were quite clearly fucking with me :D

It was before six as I set out, my neighbour agreeing to go on a short hike at 8am, and I turned four. Back at the cloister, the Pokie of my first daily gym returned, baring 4 coins. I checked: the Monument of War and Peace... Dog in one hand, camera in the other, like the lady from Kung Fu Hustle in flip-flops, I charged across the town. I was THIS close to renaming the Pokie: WHICH PART OF LEAVE THEM IN FOR AT LEAST 8 HOURS ESCAPES YOU?!, but I just kicked out the enemy Pokie with one coin to his name instead. 

Then we went of a hike and I got three ticks. Bees and ticks and kittens, oh my! Real-world Pokies galore!

The instagram feed :) -->

Saturday, 19 May 2018


Aw, man, I almost peed myself laughing. That shit is so grotesque and over-the-top it's awesome. >.<

Sunday, 13 May 2018

The plan today was to go and try shoot (lying on my belly) 'urban gladiators' jump over fire towards me (Sounds like a Bonnie Tyler song, I know). But a call from my neighbour early on changed that - she asked if I'm in the mood to climb the popular local hill, with a pie and coffee on top, her treat. It was a beautiful day for a small hill with a pie on top. She even insisted I drink a shot of some home-made 60% alcohol with herbs thing that could power a submarine if need be. That cost me half my Veto card - the other half I burnt on the dog walk later afternoon, when I had mojito ice-cream. Dayyyum, it was a fine day for booze. See me grinning? :D

Saturday, 12 May 2018

An almost over-nighter outdoors ...

Alright! Back from … half of an outdoor experience :D It was amazing, but it was only half the night, so …

Right now a massive storm has passed, and we’ve hardcore f* through it, because I am a little uneasy during violent lightning and thunder and the General takes the opportunity to distract me by doing ungodly things to my body. I was up against the wall aside of the bed when the first orgasm hit me and it felt like I was chained to a rock with sea waves crushing against me, trying to drown me. And THEN he really came down hard, because I was not coherent enough to fight him. It hurts to sit a little.

But so does my shoulder, because that’s not the only pricking I’ve had to endure today – we had our second round of anti tick brain inflammation thingie. Luckily I overheard the radio ad in which they announced it’s another 50% off if you come in before 3pm. I also told G in front of everyone ‘Be brave!’ and the nurse looked at him, at this Khal Drogo creature, and asked, considerate: ‘You are afraid’? :D :D :D

I knew sleeping away from him for a while will drive him nuts :D I took the train again to his parents’ tiny farm yestereve, asking permission to set up camp beneath their garden, where the ground is flattest. (You wouldn’t believe how annoying it can get if you keep sliding off your arrangement.) It felt good to arrive by train; there was some sort of an old-timer convention, super cute. I got to my spot and began to set up the pitch. Didn’t put the tarp low enough, though. For the longest time it was okay. I was going to start writing and illustrating my log, but I could hear laughter and cheer a few houses away on the other side of the field. The General told me most of everyone is having a pre-birthday party at the neighbours, so I strolled there and I got loads of food. People sang folk songs and compared hospital stories.

Once I returned to the cot, I saw there was a fat pale spider inside, which I probably brought with me crossing the high grasses. I blew on the spider and the poor thing curled its tiny legs, afraid. So carefully, ashamed I probably spooked it, I used a grass bloom to sweep it to safety. I am not necessarily bothered by bugs, unless they sting me, but I am worried I will crush them unintentionally, which I do not want to do at all.

The 6 bucks blankie I brought instead of the sleeping bag proved unusually okay. I was prepared to be cold, in fact I didn’t expect to get any sleep at all, but even after it got cold, I just put the blanket I slept on over my hips and it was okay again. I hadn’t even started putting clothes back on. The sounds didn’t bother me at all: a hedgehog or a badger huffed and puffed pass me in a hurry, some of the cats came to see what I was up to, birds and mice hunted in the grass, crickets were going full throttle. It was beautiful.

The problem was hardness of the ground. Ye, sure, there are mats you can buy that are super cushy. I am not sure I want to be super cushy. A retard can be super cushy while camping, if they waste enough money on comfort. It kind of defeats the purpose of bushcrafting. I still haven’t proper stakes, so G made me cut my own out of sticks and branches. It worked perfectly. I can do this shit.

Not sure when I finally found a position comfortable enough to doze off, but when I opened my eyes, a tremendous man was standing not ten feet from. He looked so surreal, just a silhouette of trees, grass and this giant. (My cot was completely hidden in trees and grass on private property, there would not be any way for anyone to find me unless they knew where to look.)

“Have you had enough of this nonsense? Ye, you did. Come on, you’re sleeping with me the rest of the night.”

(He was at work until a little over midnight.) But we are not really easy sleeping in other people’s places (he was asked to stay the night so he could help out in the wee hours of the morning), so lying perpendicular on an L shaped couch, our heads rubbing and hands entangled, we hardly got any real rest at all.

The cot has meanwhile drowned in dew. I have no idea why, between a plastic footprint and a tarp purchased especially for this, the condensation gathered on EVERYTHING so heavily, the dripping pooled on the mat and the shoes and the bug net. Took me an hour to sun-dry the lot. Even the stuff that were not wet were moist, even my poor forlorn journal. That’ll teach me to set up cots haphazardly.

My plan was to finish the journal while he ran his errands, eat some and then walk back to town to catch a museum train home, but the vaccination invite changed that a bit. I began reading Bruce Springsteen autobiography Niko lent me while in line for the tick medicine, and it’s really well written. I’m about 30 pages in. It’s the exact opposite of the worst biography I’ve ever read – Ava Gardner’s by some fucking retard so called journalist.  

Sooo…. It was a lot more pleasant, the camping, than I was afraid, but I need to work on some crannies. I also need a fanny pouch, because (I didn’t bring the camera), when I was told to leave the backpack behind I made a pouch out of the buffy and carried everything but the domicile in there. You’re supposed to keep the fundamentals on you even if you detach from your pack. Plus my water canteen sits better on the fanny pouch strap than it does on the backpack strap.

Uh, did I tell you the other day I was chased by a bee? A fucking bee. We were raking hay and this fucking bee charged at me – you’re supposed to go stand in a tree – but I panicked so badly when it started hitting my head behind the ear, trying to get in through my hair, I just laughed, screamed and ran indoors … And the fucking thing was waiting for me outside the door for ages! A fucking bee!