Laughbawl

Crap. Now I can't find the camera. Have the tubey thing, just no camera. Okay. I was going to post a picture of La Rambla in Barcelona, but you're going to have to use your imagination. Actually, I'll help you... close your eyes... not yet, after the next bit because I am about to use the magic of words to put an exotic image in your mind... to see La Rambla, close your eyes (not yet!)... and think of a sunny day in Barcelona, and, like, a really big mall with lots of people, mostly Spanish, in it. Now close your eyes. Ahh yairs...

How cool is that? I bet you thought you were actually in Spain... oh, you have to open your eyes now.

Anyway.

A magazine called up to ask me to go to the theatre tonight to review a comedy play about death, which is right up my alley. That made me happy because free theatre tickets are back on the agenda. Then another magazine emailed to say they weren't sure how my humour column was going to fit in with their mag, and I replied with, "No worries re the column. I have a couple of other magazines for that kind of stuff, so no drama. I was actually a little surprised that you expressed interest in a humour column in the first place. Few editors think outside the square at all."

Few editors think outside the square at all. Hmm.

I sent it and realised that even I'm not sure what to make of it. They said the nice thing about keeping me in mind for future stories, but I'm guessing that especially after my response, I won't be hearing from them. Lucky they didn't see what I had been going to send... it had words like "cocksucking", "spaz", "mutant" and "evolutionary conundrum" in it.

Also, have you ever laughed and cried at the same time? Not that dribbly romantic comedy laughcry that girls do, a full on belly laughbawl. It can be done. And it is strange. That's what I've heard anyway.