Muffinmouth

The pointless photo is, of course, not of muffinmouth.

Just thought I'd make that clear.

I was going to explain muffinmouth, but on second thought it should maybe be muffinbrain instead.

Let's just say that I've been having a day where I'm about as comprehensible as someone who's just scarfed an entire double chocolate muffin at once and then tried to sing the Seguidilla. Erm... the aria from Carmen, I mean. I was going to link to a video, but then I decided I wasn't in the mood to warn everyone about the unexpected opera content. You can google it yourself, if you like.

And let's just take it on faith that it would be a little difficult to sing the Seguidilla with a mouthful of muffin. I'd find it difficult, at least.

It's a fun song to sing without the muffin, though.






Sorry. Where was I?

Right. Muffinbrain. I've been having trouble speaking in actual English words today, which is unfortunate seeing that English is, in fact, my native language. My only language, if you don't count the assorted bits of bastardised French I remember from school or the occasional stray Italian or German phrase that I picked up from too many years of singing lessons.

Yes, I really am capable of singing the Seguidilla. Not with a mouthful of muffin, but otherwise I'm not terribly bad.

It's always been a mystery to me that someone who makes her living by communicating and, when in front of a group, does it pretty well (all things considered) can have so many moments of muffinmouth as soon as she's back in the office.

Hmm. When exactly did I turn into the third person? That's kind of weird, really.

There are days when it's damned near impossible for me to speak in comprehensible sentences in the office. It amuses the hell out of Wheat, apparently, who has (just to give an idea of how serious the muffinbrain has been today) admitted that there are days where he wonders how I managed to make it in to work all by myself.

The days where internal thoughts don't seem to be able to maintain a functioning connection with the real world, that is.

If there is a real world.




I keep threatening to discuss the concept of reality on the blog, but have you noticed that I never seem to get to it? I think it must be gathering dust on the same shelf as the subject of whether normality actually exists.

And note how I say normality, not normalcy. I *hate* that word, and if you people keep insisting on using it I shall have to register an official complaint.

Um...

I've lost the thread somewhere, haven't I?

Ah well, I suppose that's appropriate for a muffinbrain day. In my own defence I should inform you that Wheat has Eddie Izzard playing (well, one of his CDs. I'm not sure what we'd have to do to convince the man himself to drop by the office) and it's making it extra fun to try to focus the non-focussing brain on a blog entry.

Every futile action should be given up at some point, and I think this is the point where this one will raise the white flag. Exit, singing:

Près des remparts de Séville,
Chez mon ami, Lillas Pastia
J'irai danser la Séguedille
Et boire du Manzanilla.
J'irai chez mon ami Lillas Pastia...