Surprise Olives

It's 7:30pm. I'm sitting on my bed, which isn't made, listening to the sound of rain and researching Olives.

It has suddenly occurred to me that I am very mild. I'm the type of person that has nothing but butter on their toast, and doesn't like the toast to be too well-toasted. One time, I nearly ran over someone at a zebra crossing. They gave me a foul look and I almost cried. I felt like running out of the car and onto the road, while screaming "I'M A PERFECTLY RESPECTABLE PERSON I WAS JUST ABSENT MINDED I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ME".

So there we have it. I'm a perfectly respectable person, who is also absent-minded, and currently listening to the sound of rain while researching olives. I think I'm a lot more mild than Mild Salsa, and possibly on par, in mildness, with Lightly Sparkling Mineral Water.

Although, that stuff is thrilling in my opinion. I accidentally bought a bottle of super-organic local sparkling mineral water instead of the no frills boring water normal shops sell. I didn't seem to think anything of it when I heard the cashier say "sparkling", but when the water hit my tongue, boy did I feel the sparkling!

So I was overwhelmed the first time I had Sparkling Mineral Water. OVERWHELMED. Mind you, it was Surprise Sparkling Mineral Water. And while surprises are romantic in theory, in practice they're usually awful. Surprise Sex is uncomfortable and crosses some lines, Surprise Dates fuck with your timetable and put your whole day out of whack, Surprise Surcharges do nothing but piss you off.

Surprises can be fun, sometimes. Once I bit into a quiche and swore I tasted wine. I enjoy quiche and I very much enjoy wine, so naturally this event embodied the fabled pleasant surprise. After a lot of screaming and glee I discovered that the source of the surprise wine flavouring was the olives embedded within the quiche. And at that point I decided to pursue an interest in and love for olives, because, in my own absurd words, "THEY TASTE LIKE WINE!"

And we're back to olives. Move over Rome, all roads now lead to Olives.

I find it really fucking odd when people say something is olive-coloured. Olives start off a shade of green, and then become a purple-ish black when they're ripe... or may be when they've rotted. Anyway, I have never met anyone with green or "purplish" skin, so I understand the term, "olive-skin".

This annoys me as much as the term "redhead". The term "redhead" refers to a person with orange hair, not red hair. And their head is certainly not red either.

The list goes on. When people tell me about the "miserable weather" outside, I always wish to inform them that "The weather is rainy; you are miserable". I don't know why people feel the need to drag the weather down when they're feeling bad. There is absolutely nothing wrong with a rainy day, or a cloudy day. Just because you're annoyed that the washing won't dry for a week now thanks to this constant rain, doesn't give you the right to drag the weather down with you in your parade of self-pity in some twisted attempt at pathetic fallacy.

There are some things I like, as unusual as that might sound given that all I've down so far is ramble about bothersome circumstances and my sarcastic approach to them. I like olives, as I've already mentioned, twice. I actually like the rain, as detrimental as it is to my attempts to wash things. I like the company of good friends. I like when boys make me giggle.

I'm actually super excited to be moving house. I am only moving a few streets away, but this will be the first house I have ever lived in without my family. It has a nice backyard and plenty of space for herbs and vegetables, so naturally I'm excited.

I think that just about sums up the extent of my mildness. The fact that I am excited by the prospect of growing herbs and vegetables (and fruits!); more than I seem to be excited about moving in with a best friend.

I think it's time to go. So I will, go that is. And so I leave you bewildered and annoyed by the pointless crap I just discussed, with myself. Enjoy some olives.