Tiffs and tantrums

Ok, so I’ll make no excuses… it’s been a while since my last post. This is only partly due to me going away for a nice, sunshine-filled weekend in RL with Thom, partly due to some RL work and a teeny tiny bit of tempestuous tiffing (totally Thom’s fault).

We’re very different people you see. I am patient until I blow and then I say something (usually a bit harsh) and hang up the call, or log off, or… in RL, I run into another room and slam the door. All very childish I’m sure you’ll agree. He retaliates by maintaining (in his mind anyway) a dignified silence for a while. When we make up he tries not to call me a loony and I try not to call him a sulker and then we get on great. We’re at the great stage about now, like sunshine and clear air after a storm.

It’s not just been Thom who has fallen foul of my quick-acting back-lash this week. You know how sometimes you add people to your friends list in SL, because you think you might have something in common, and it turns out you don’t? And then they delete you and you just move on? Yeah… that happens a lot.

What normally doesn’t happen a lot is that the person is still around in your club and gives you an up-their-own-arse answer about why they deleted you. So I banned this person – I mean, who wants someone who seems intent on making you feel uncomfortable and creating drama for no good reason in your own front room every night? – and they threw a wobbler.

Personally, I see little difference between a friends list and a club. The club is not a public venue, it belongs to me and Thom; it’s our club and we welcome everybody there, unless they act like an arse. Obviously I don’t want to name the person, that wouldn’t be fair. “To every action, there is always opposed a reaction” and this person is entitled to react however they wish, but needless to say, it hasn’t changed my mind.

Why can’t everybody just get along? (wails Meri childishly).

AAi is my haven from the craziness of RL, and sometimes of SL, my home from home and I love it if other people feel the same way. Everyone is friendly and nice, there is no drama to speak of and the DJs are wonderful – both musically and personally. It’s not about how many sets we put on, how many people come (although it’s nice for the DJs when people do come and party) and we bimble along happily enough.

Back to the weekend away… Thom and I went to one of our favourite cottages out in the countryside and cooked, watched movies, snuggled up, ate raspberries and went out tazzing around the country lanes in Larry (his cute little car) to visit public houses for beer and sunshine. I’m putting a picture of Larry I took up, so you can see how beautiful he is and how the clouds reflect in his shiny bonnet. I might have to put two so you can see his little face.  

Larry from the rear, looking shiny

Larry from the rear, looking shiny

Larry's little face

Larry’s little face

Thom said he was pleased that I had “bonded with Larry”, although it has to be said that the sports seats were so tight that the bonding was almost permanent.  

Larry is a 1969 Triumph Herald for the information of any boys reading this. He has a picnic basket and tartan blanket on the back seat for the information of any girls reading this. Thom wouldn’t let me stand up or stick my hands up out of the car while we were driving, which I didn’t think was very “Thelma and Louise” of him, neither did he appreciate my bottle of Wild Turkey.

While I recover from sunburn and my bottom from being squeezed (by the car seat you dirty minded people :)) Thom prepares to go away for his fishing competition this weekend.  It’s a two-night-in-a-tent-by-a-lake jobby and it’s all very manly.  He drinks beer from cans and cooks on a little stove and tries not to catch fish. This may not be the way he’d tell it, but to me, the correlation between the amount of time he spends there and the amount of fish he actually catches doesn’t add up. I think it’s mainly beer activity based.

While he’s safely out of the way, I’m going to steal Larry. Don’t tell him I said so.


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