Coasters. It was coasters.

For those who’ve been hanging on tenterhooks, waiting for the resolution to Mother’s Christmas mystery, here it is:

Coasters. She got me coasters. It’s a set of coasters with birds on. I did say I needed those, but it was ages ago, and I forgot. I have to hand it to her, really. I’d never have guessed coasters. My coffee table looks like I’m hosting the Olympics*.

I also wanted to mention something from my school days. I thought of it yesterday, just out of the blue, and here it is:

FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF PRE-INTERNET ACRONYMS FOR GEEZERS

Anyone else remember “TID, TIND, AT, FU”? You’d write something crude on someone’s desk, like “JEANNIE W. SUCKS COCKS” or “PETER F. IS A DOSS CUNT,” then you’d put “TID, TIND, AT, FU,” which meant “true if destroyed, true if not destroyed, always true, fuck you.”

I don’t know why I thought of that. I was stood by the fridge slurping tomato juice straight from the bottle, and poit. There it was.

SOCAR M. IS A DIRTY APE. TID, TIND, AT, FM.

Anyway, that’s all for today. I mostly wanted to show off my Christmas booty, and a bit of nostalgia for good measure. I’m tired, so I’m going back to bed.

*It has rings, baby. Rings. Did I need to explain that? Well, now I have.