...and don't panic! The Know brings you advice during housing
A true friend is always there for you, especially when you're drunk.
Miss Quit regresses to her childhood this week as the prospect of beginning the "University of Life" looms.
Not that I’ve had seven husbands or been involved in a famous murder scandal, at least not that I’m aware of…
No, what links us is something far more prosaic. For lack of a better summary, I refer to the words of the lady herself to explain my sentiments: I’m so gullible. I’m so damn gullible. And I am so sick of me being gullible.
Indeed. So very damn sick of it. For, like Lana, I am the girl who will reply to the most ludicrous/sarcastic/duping claim with the phrase "Really? Wow!", only to be crushed when the inevitable "No, not really" comes along to dash my belief.
Yes, I am an advertiser’s dream. I have actually bought Febreeze in the past because television told me it neutralises household odours. Lies! It just adds another, more over-powering smell on top, a saccharine layer that only worsens the gag-factor. And I’ll be damned if my housemates have ever let me forget it.
If life were QI, then I would be Alan Davies. Not because I go around biting tramps (yes, Alan Davies bit a tramp, really) but because I believe whatever crap society has told me throughout life and then feel deceived when I discover them to be hoaxes.
But that was all to change at the beginning of the week. Determined to avoid falling hook-line-and-sinker as the perpetual butt of every joke, I would resist believing my ears for as long as I possibly could. Or a week, whichever lasted longer.
Not long passed before my first test arose. Over copious amounts of wine (I was still relishing my release from the previous week’s quit, naturally) and an ominously bubbling chocolate fountain, my housemate and I decided to sing a cheerful, if lyrically-dubious, tune. When we came to the second of the song’s two and only lines, something odd happened. I refused to believe that her version was correct and that mine was erroneous.
Fast-forward an hour and we were still singing, at the top of lungs, trying to prove to the other that our own respective version was unquestionably the accurate one. And so the night continued in slurred singing and half-joking derisions.
The next few days passed relatively calmly, with neither of us bringing up the issue again, mostly because we were so busy we hardly clapped eyes on each other. Indeed, I had completely forgotten about it. It seems this was not the case for my sparring partner. Late Thursday night, with a triumphant glint in her eye, my housemate beckoned me to her room, where her iTunes sat ready and waiting. Sure enough, she was right.
For those interested in what musical masterpiece could possibly prompt such heated debate, the song in question had been Lemon Jelly’s Nice Weather for Ducks. Stupidly, what I thought to be the line following ‘All the ducks are swimming in the water’ to be ‘round and round and round, round and round and round’, in actual fact turned out to be: ‘fal de ral de raldo, fal de ral de raldo’. Of course, silly me.
To make up for my lack of trust I swallowed my pride and conceded, whilst she drank the cup of tea I made her, the usual custom for admitting defeat. The moral of my story? Never contradict my housemate, she’s never wrong. Ever.
That will teach me to fight my gullible nature. Lana and I should probably just stick to smiling and nodding, for I doubt we will get anywhere with mistrusting people who know more than we do about such important matters as song lyrics and such.
Ah well, I suppose credulity is all part of my charm. And if you believe that, you’re even more gullible than I am.
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