Skyrimmed

Another day, but sadly no dollar, as for the fourth time in a row I've been told that our department isn't needed in work.  You'd think I'd be happy, which I almost am, but then I'd pass up a brilliant opportunity just to have a moan about things, and I'm not happy unless I have something to moan over (which, if you consider the concept, it makes absolutely no sense).

Today I have actually been relatively productive, for a bizarre change in fortunes.  Oh yes, I have been dealing with my estate agent, who I have slowly come to realise - if not particularly tolerate - is what many would class as a fool, and so I've been trying to sort things out with that.  Yes, this 'Vicki' (note the sickeningly infantile way it's spelt with an 'i' at the end; all the signs were there from the off) seems to delight in making things as complicated, frantic and disorganised as possible.  Needless to say, I'll have the last laugh, my vicious retribution shall be merciless.  In the dead of night, I'm going to break into her house, tiptoe up the stairs, slink into her bathroom and . . . squeeze her toothpaste from the exact middle of the tube - because everyone hates that - and write in big letters on her mirror;

"Michael Silk is not to be trifled with"

Now that will get the message across perfectly

Furthermore, I've wrote a chapter (well, I lie - its a few paragraphs and then followed with some bullet-points of what else I will include) of my book, filled in the puzzle on the back of my box of Choco Shreddies and then spent a worrying amount of time fuelling my Sims Social addiction (and then stopped that due to having a distinct lack of friends willing to help build my extension) and so ended up doing a blog.

Now, you may notice that Skyrim has not featured in my list of activities.

Oh not you again Jean-Luc.  Why must you haunt my blog so? 

Why exactly, you may ask.  Well, I think recent events have proved that I know far too much about it.  Take this weekend that has just gone, for example.  T'was the first time that me and Melissa had spent a full weekend together.  Now Melissa had previously claimed that Skyrim was "boring" and the only good part "was riding the horses."

"Challenge accepted"

Unfortunately for me, I told her my plan of action when I first heard her blasphemy.  I sent her a text message containing the following;

"Skyrim is awesome.  Let's make a deal, when

you stay over I'll do all the fighty bits and

 I'll let you ride my horse :) x x x"

That awkward double-pokerface moment . . .

I then probably made it even worse by clarifying that I was innocently just referring to riding my Skyrim horse and nothing . . . . *ahem* else.  Unfortunately though, this is not the first time that I have transgressed into the realms of what shall now be termed as "Skyrim-smut".  Here, without any exaggeration, is the best text message conversation I have ever had; it started out innocently enough with me moaning to Tim at the injustice vegetarian diners have to endure, and then ended up referring to someone's - to protect his dignity, he shall be referred to as 'Esteban', and his unsuspecting victim shall be known as "Tobias" -  ultimate faux pas in Claire and Tim's living room using nothing but Skyrim terminology (NB. Those of a nervous disposition should look away now . . . and mother, I apologise wholeheartedly for the level of immaturity involved here).

Me: Gah its so demeaning being made to order something called a 'Tree Hugger Burger' -_-

Tim: what your tree hugger burger from maccy d's like your tree hugger breakfeast?! :P

Me: Oh no I've learnt my lesson, sort of. The Tree Hugger Burger is from Walkabout . . . in Bungalows and Bears they do a Hippy Burger. Harsh!

Tim: GOD DAMN HIPPIES!!!!

Me: Melissa claimed my veggie wrap thing looked like vomit in a bap . . .

Tim: They normally do . . . I say just eat meat. Skeever with vampire dust and bone meal topped off with lavender.

Me: Chicks dig bone meal.

Tim: Hoping to get vampire dusted afterwards!

Me: "Esteban" vampire dusted in his pants.

Tim: And our sofa!

Me: It looked like someone had just cleared out Morvath's Lair in your front room.

Tim: And then danced all over the Jarl's table about it!

Me: "Tobias" had a load of ectoplasm in his hair.

Tim: All because of "Esteban's" dream of glowing mushrooms, Nord minstrels and an Argonian waitress.

Me: That "Esteban", always trying to get the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller away.

"And yes, we both realised afterwards that we are sad, depraved and yet awesome in equal quantities"

So, these factors combined mean that I should spend less time trudging the troubled province of Skyrim, making dragon-skin rugs for my miniscule house . . . oh actually, that reminds me, I just saved up enough for that house in Markarth . . . . . . . . . . .

Brb, Skyrim