I make a lot of typing errors when blogging and some just general brain fails too. People help me out a lot with this and I am grateful. Especially as I more accustomed to flying with a sub’ ‘ed on board armed with a red pen.
Anyhoo. Sometimes the mistakes are more fun than the original – when your on-line help is amusing it helps. So, from the Amplified mistakes where I not only got a screen name wrong (sorry!) but also missed a letter out – changing the meaning entirely. Here’s a story along the mistaken lines. The original was meant to be about name tag stickers and Sharpie pens. This has nothing to do with stickers but it does draw to our attention a few problems with Harpies.
When I got home from work, my flatmates Caroline and Andrew were creating the sort of atmosphere I would expect to find in a morgue. I drop my bag on the floor and flop down next to Caroline on the couch. “What’s up homies?” I ask jovially, trying to kill the awkwardness.
“Caroline has decided to throw a party.” Andrew is pulling the sort of face that says, ‘and I hate her’.
I’m hoping not to get involved in their scrapping and aim for chipper enquiry, “Cool, when? What’s the occasion?”
Caroline brightens a little, “No occasion really, just people I have not seen for a while y’know? Well, we have all these friends online and we never see them, so I thought I’d invite them around at the weekend.” She grins awfully and looks over my shoulder at Andrew with a smirk.
There’s a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. We all have friends that our flatmates are not keen on, I know geeks that make normal people want to rip their own ears off, Andrew’s clique of gay pride friends are usually fine until they are hammered and then apparently I’m fair game for an utter character and wardrobe assassination and well, Caroline, she has friends that well, most people don’t believe in. Until they turn up.
Caroline works for some undercover British league of something or other. I can never remember what it’s really called. I get the feeling she does something so that I cannot ever remember it on purpose. Anyways, it means she works with Britain’s finest oddities and myths. Ghosts, vampires, invisible men, human weapons, owl men, the beast of Bodmin, the green man but sadly her department is mostly made up of Harpies. Dangerous, scary, part naked hard drinking women with wings. This does not bode well for our home. Though I’m not sure how to put it to Caroline.
Andrew does it for me, “There’s no way you can have those things over here again. Out of the question.” He’s getting a bit pink in the face and has fair reason really.
“You hate my friends,” interjects Caroline. “Just because one of them ate your last boyfriend, doesn’t mean they’re all like that. Besides, she was hungry and he was winding her up.”
I try to make some peace, “I think we had all had a lot to drink by that stage…” “Oh, and murder and digestion is OK under those circumstances?” Andrew is not going to let this go quietly. I guess he has a point. I have no way out of the row now though, so maybe some solution suggestions.
“What about we go elsewhere then?”
Andrew barks a laugh, “Oh where? The Lion? How about a nice bistro? Ohno! That’s right, Caroline’s friends are oddly noticeable and uncomfortable in public being undead mythical creatures and all.” He folds his arms dramatically.
I sigh and look at Caroline. “Is there anywhere else we can go?”
She doesn’t happy. “Well, we could gather at the usual place, but its usually so packed with them all. I don’t see why you guys can have your friends over all the time and not me.”
I try for humour, “That’s not true, I thought your fire nymph guy was a laugh”. He also nearly burned my bed to a cinder.
She’s starting to soften. I guess that would be OK, I think it might be better as Hamish the invisible guy? Yeah, he’s been a bit tricky when drunk lately.”
Caroline starts to think and picks up her mobile to call in a few changes of venue. I look at Andrew who appears to be about to start up again. I pull silent “no” faces at him and he sits back.
“Well I suppose I’m not invited then,” he grumps at us.
I’m not so surprised as he is an attention seeking drama queen who loves a party. Caroline puts a hand over the mouth piece of her mobile. “Sure, you can come if you want, just make sure your date is tasty.”
Trying not to laugh at Andrew’s outraged face, I haul my ass from the couch and head off to put the kettle on. Mixed living is always interesting and I know for all the differences, I wouldn’t change mine for all the tea in China.