My girlfriend and I nearly broke up last night.

Long distant relationships are stupidly hard.

Yup.

How far apart are you?

houseboat wrote:My girlfriend and I nearly broke up last night.

Long distant relationships are stupidly hard.

Amen to that. It's very easy to argue about the most asinine shit ever and have it seem vital and important when you aren't in one another's presence and are in fact miles away from one another.

I once hung up on the guy I was dating because he claimed that Bjork was a better artist than P.J. Harvey. I also once got in a 2-day long argument about transmission rates of H.I.V. among males and females, in regard to their sexual practices, with another long distance person. That was right after I completed Microbiology and the douche still claimed that I was wrong, even though he was a fucking CLASSICS MAJOR!

Years ago, in a long-distance relationship fraught with such arguments, we had one massive one that I thought was the end of it - as in, I thought the argument ended with us agreeing to end it. So when we met up again, I thought it was best to start this not-seeing-each-other-any-more phase with refreshing honesty, and told her I'd been seeing someone else. Only then did she reveal she thought the argument had been just another argument, and went apeshit. She ended up furiously (but rather ineffectually) punching and kicking me outside a pizzeria , as two spotty teeneged delivery boys smirked at us from their stationary scooters.

Have tried to avoid long-distanceness ever since.

My wife and I were long distance for a year, and then I moved to be closer to her.

I was living, at the time, by myself on a tree farm, with only the dog for company. The nearest person lived a mile away, so that late night phone call was the center of my day.

I think the isolation of that life was what kept me from falling prey to the usual slings and arrows that destroy LDRs.

In other news, it was my friend Mike's 50th birthday last night. He was guitar player in a band called The Dashboard Saviors for many, many years. He is a fine lead player and a good guy.

There was a big pile of drunk musicians playing on the corner stage at the bowling alley last night. By the time I got there, it was all drunken Stones covers, all the time. I jumped up and played drums on "Happy," "Dead Flowers," "Shake Your Hips," and "Can't You Hear Me Knocking?"

There may have been a Tom Petty song and a Crazy Horse song thrown in there somewhere. It was loud, drunk and terrible and I had a blast.

The darts players took issue with the volume (and general ribaldry of the band's behavior) and came over to have a word. Todd McBride told their Leader "You might poke three little holes in me, mother fucker, but I'll knock your goddamn teeth in.... so I reckon you better make those holes count..."

Someone else said "Yeah, Dartboy... you better get an eye if you're gonna get anything..."

and there was much drunken harhar-ing.

Fuck it. Your old friends will only turn Fitty once each. You might as well make it a party.

playing drums on "shake yours hips" while drunk should be one of the best things ever.

SOMEONE SHAT IN MY HEAD

honeyisfunny wrote:SOMEONE SHAT IN MY HEAD

Sorry.... it was kind of emergency and you weren't using it.

I am going to apologize in advance about your shirt. You should be noticing it any minute.

Your forehead was out of paper.

I went into a newsagents this morning to buy a Guardian. Although this was a branch of a large nation-wide chain of newsagents, it was staffed solely by an 18-year old youth with long red hair and a Metallica t-shirt. Thrash metal was playing on a portable CD player at a civilised volume. While he was serving an old man, I searched the shop for non-tabloid newspapers. The old guy was buying a packet of ten cigarettes and paying for it using a large collection of 1, 2 and 5 pence coins. The transaction took over 2 minutes.

There were no Guardians. I settled for a Herald.

night_tools wrote:I went into a newsagents this morning to buy a Guardian. Although this was a branch of a large nation-wide chain of newsagents, it was staffed solely by an 18-year old youth with long red hair and a Metallica t-shirt. Thrash metal was playing on a portable CD player at a civilised volume. While he was serving an old man, I searched the shop for non-tabloid newspapers. The old guy was buying a packet of ten cigarettes and paying for it using a large collection of 1, 2 and 5 pence coins. The transaction took over 2 minutes.

There were no Guardians. I settled for a Herald.

Makes you feel proud to be British, reading that.