Friday, 29 June 2012

Deliciously Moist (Scrotum?)

Mat is reading 50 Shades and we were discussing its overuse of the word "Delicious". How this train of conversation lead to him pretending to lick my face, I leave to your imagination.

Verity: Ew, get off me you disgusting scrote

Mat: Please don't use that word.

Verity: What, scrote?

Mat: Urgh, yes. I don't know why, but I hate it, like a lot of people flinch at cunt.

Verity: At. It's okay, I understand. I know someone who can't bear the word moist.

Mat: .... I'm going to bed now.

Historical perspective

Talking to an American friend about TV.

 Michael: Also seriously why are your historical shows so much better than ours, Verity, why?

 Verity: Because we HAVE history. My garden has a hedgerow older than your country.

Thursday, 21 June 2012

Editing facepalms: Adverbs

A chat between me and one of the directors at Curiosity Quills about a book I'm editing for them:

Verity: "Toxic chemicals blended underfoot with foul excrement, creating dangerous colors that twinkled with suspicious luminescence. " Adverb overkill! FATALITY! Also, 'foul excrement', not to be confused with that sweet-smelling, decorative excrement.

Eugene: Ah, decorative excrement... the poop of unicorns.

Thursday, 14 June 2012

The real problem with homelessness

Sat around the table, we just finished a dinner of sausages, cauliflower, broccoli and baked beans. The only person with anything left on their plate is Adam, who has left a little cluster of baked beans. Mat leans over to steal them.

Adam: Oh god, you're not really eating cold beans?!

Verity: They can't be cold already, surely?

Mat: Luke warm.

Adam: Urgh, still horrible. See, this is why I could never be homeless. They eat cold beans out of cans.

Verity, deadpan sarcasm: ... I'm sorry, that's the only reason? Nothing about the sleeping in boxes, no showers, the freezing to death in winter?

This is about the point where Adam is collapsing into snorting giggles.

Verity: No clean clothes, able to pack everything you own into a Tesco's carrier bag, living in constant fear someone equally desperate will steal the little you still have - you can hack all that, but fuck my life, anything but cold beans!   

Silence, punctuated only by the sound of Adam giggling, complete with strange little squeaking noises.

Mat: I think you broke him.