alright so I'm back in Scotland- Edinburgh to be exact of course and from the lack of blogging it should be clear that I have been having an amazing time.
I'm living with my friend Sarah and Claire and they are great flatmates- both are artists which makes for both an entertaining and at times slightly frightening living situation. I shall give you some examples:
Claire enjoys writing songs in her spare time. My favorites are two ukulele numbers one called Sigourney Weaver- about the disaster that is Sigourney's hair in the Alien movies, and another that I'm not sure the name of but has a lovely melody with even lovelier lyrics. My favourite lines go 'I thought you loved me but you gave me chlamydia, well at least it wasn't aids, a. i. d. s., aids.'
Sarah on the other hand likes drawing pictures. Some of my favourites are on t-shirts with clever puns, others are violent and scare me- like the birthday card she drew me, or the pictures that are sometimes on the mirror when I get up in the morning (they often cause me to cry myself to sleep).
The recent art that has entered in this particular fashion came from a conversation that Sarah and I had about how we would do our hair for an upcoming wedding. Sarah announced that she would be doing her hair in a queef. I cleared my throat and asked her to repeat thinking I had surely not heard her properly. Alas she repeated it just as I had heard.
She asked me what the face I made was for and I explained that I think that the meaning of the word must be different and she needed to tell me about what she was talking about. Apparently in the UK queef means an elevated hairdoo usually poofed up in the front- not air escaping from a vagina in a fart like fashion like I had initially thought. Once we had a good laugh about it I was off to bed. The next morning the word queef had been written in speech bubbles all around the tub- something that really wakes you up at 7am.
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