I'm actually quite remarkably poor at remembering names. And songs. And names of fish. Though that might fall under the names category.
And favourite foods. Which is never pleasant, being accused of pretending to favour one food over another when just two days previous you'd preferred something else entirely (say one day professing a preference for croque monsieur then, three days later at a dinner party, with at least a reasonable overlap of attendees (as it wouldn't make much sense, unless the present guests had extraordinary telepathic powers, which, I suppose, could be the case, and, sense or otherwise, it's still odd of you to be forgetting what your favourite food is), exclaiming your joy at the server's choice of serving your favourite, beets, though why anyone would ever pretend to like beets is, quite frankly, well beyond the scope of my understanding, and possibly reprehensible, depending on your social mores and accoutrement.).
Other than that, and the occasional missed appointment/meeting, I have quite an outstanding ability to process information and keep it around a bit for further reference in the near or distant future. I do have a tendency to oversleep, but that's, as far as I know, wholly unconnected to any of the aforementioned problems with memory of names, fishes names, major treaties ending wars with the word Year or Years somewhere in their name, and favourite foods, both mine and others'. Which I may or may not have mentioned before. Sorry.
Which brings me, of a sort, around to my point. Again. Just like last week. Only that wasn't me, that was the other guy in the office. And he's not very likeable, honest. Bit of a rotter, if you ask me. Or anyone else, really. Mean bastard. Oh, which I possibly may not have been able to say.
Ehm, I mean, he's just not a very nice guy, what with stealing my whole act-like thingy before I get to write my column on sleep-deprivation and attacking my house plant, which, granted, probably would have been more properly named my office plant, as it's primary residence was in the office, just on the sill by the water tower thing sitting by the refridgerator.
I've also found out, by the bye, that the phrase "lighting a fire under someone" is apparently not to be taken literally, or at least not without some dire consequences. Those being the person catching, rather uncouthly, on fire. Which, again, depending on your personal preference, upbringing, and state of mind, is almost entirely up to you.
disclaimer:
This has been voted, by a panel of eight or so judges, all of whom have relatively little judgement and/or authority on the matter, one of sanemagazine's three most discontinuous issues in the last five years.
In honour of such an occasion, cheese.
Yer Weekly Horoscopes. ...