These are all the things in Siobhan's archives tagged as "story". If you want to narrow it down, you can use more than one tag, seperating them with a space.
I wrote this ages ago, I was saving it for a day when I couldn't think of anything to write - but it seems more than fitting to tell it today.
Tennis Skirt
So, cast your minds back to February, 1972...
While I'm on the subject of spots, I'd like to share with you a little story that happened a few years back - and one that I hope will serve as a lesson for all men worried about the health of their, er, plumbing...
*brrrring! brrrring!* ... "Hello?" ... "Hi Siobhan, it's L" ... "Hiya hon" ... "Wanna come round to our house tonight, drink copious amounts of wine, and play Trivial Pursuit?" ... "You had me long before the 'and play'"
Dammit, memed - and it was all my own fault. I must try and remember to keep my interfering gob shut this year.
story name genius hypothemia lakedistrict virginity meme
OF course, the first time I ever wore a skirt in front of anyone happened to be the first time I was pissed...
I've probably told the "Duck In Jam" story before haven't I? I must have - but I can't find it right now.
(Because if anyone's got more claim on using Eddie-Izzard quotes as titles, I'd like to meet them)
How long after an event is it safe to talk about it? A month? A year? Five years? This particular story is about six years old, and I'm not in touch with anyone who features prominently in it. So I figure I'm safe :unsure:
I'm going to have to provide a certain amount of background context for this. Apologies therefore if you've been with me since the start and I end up going over old ground. That's one of the problems with writing a weblog I guess - not knowing at what point someone reading it has come in. When you have to delve into the past, you run the risk of generating an Internet-wide "Eh?, because you left out a certain piece of previously-blogged information.
I've told this story before, but seeing as some might have missed it, it feels right to repeat it.
dressingup story memory tranny
Or "How I ended up being a Graphic Designer by accident".
Some people say that Determinism is a bad thing. (Hark at me, coming over all John Hurt-like). I happen to think it's rather lovely. I like to think, sometimes, at moments of enormous ego-mania, that me lying on this sofa is the sum output of the entire history of the Universe. The single outcome of not only the human race, but the entire longevic input of billions of years of evolution is a slightly drunk man, lying on a settee, wearing a nightie.
(Somewhere, deep in the bowels of Westminster Abbey, you can just about hear the sounds of a subterranean-rotational-movement coming from beneath a stone that says "Darwin")
First of all, apologies for re-posting a story that I've talked about before. There's two reasons for this: Firstly, when I originally wrote about it, I was in a bit of a flap - and although I still get little panic attacks about the event, I figure I'm in a better position to tell it.
tranny story eddieizzard drunk
I drink wine. We all know that, I presume. I also have the inclination to knock back a few wiskeys every now and again, and - when I'm feeling festive - I'll sidle up to my old friend "Guinness"
I have, in the past, mentioned my first cat - Cabbage. She wasn't the first cat I ever had - I think that one was called "Fluff", and I had her when I was about 6 - but she was the first cat I ever had in this house.
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