Self-indulgent - but at least I'm fun at parties.

On the TV the other night I watched an interview with a man (whose name eludes me - Mark D'Ar something or other) who wrote a book of fiction (The Naked Husband) based on his own experiences. I don't all the details but he had an affair which caused the break up of his marriage. The terrible part was that his wife committed suicide. I've got the book on order from work so once I've read it, I'll let you what I think. But (see Sophie, I like starting my sentences with "but") the thing that caught my attention was not so much this sad tale, but (two in one sentence??) that he said that it was very easy to make people like you but the telling the truth is a lot harder.

This actually got me thinking (a bit) and some self-reflection is clearly in order. This blog is really only the "Good Laziest Girl". I don't think that I can ever bring the "Evil Laziest Girl" out in public. You know the horrible fears and doubts that gnaw (sp?) away at you in the middle of the night. The kinds of things that you normally keep stuffed in a locked suitcase under the metaphorical bed of your soul. Stuff that is so nasty that you need to pretend it doesn't exist so that you can show your face to the sun.

Everybody has it. Some people just hide it better than others. Most of the nasty stuff is shut away so tight that you can pretend it doesn't exist. We can display some of our negative traits provided that a charming veneer can be provided. I mean, Laziest Girl is the most academically shallow person any of you will meet. But I can dress it up in an amusing fashion, trot it around at parties and it all seems terribly amusing.

Oh look, Laziest Girl can talk about anything with intelligence. Let's talk about classic literature, now let's talk about the latest Kevin Smith film, now let's discuss the political situation in the Middle East (actually, I'd probably shy away from that last topic as too hard). Did you know that JFK's sister was actually lobotomised by the famous "Ice Pick" Freeman? He got that name by pioneering a form of surgery that delivered a lobotomy with two quick jabs of an ice pick through the tops of the eye sockets. In fact he used to line the patients up and lobotomise his way to the end of the line. Barbaric isn't it.

See, I can impress you with loads of useless stuff, but once something gets too hard to understand, I don't care anymore. I'm like a pathetic hummingbird flitting from flower to flower. For Pete's sake, I have done about five English Lit subjects at Uni but I still can't remember the rules for using an apostrophe (sorry Sophie - maybe we can have another lesson next semester).

Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitching and moaning in the hope that you all write comments saying how intellectual and intelligent I am. I know I'm smart (not brilliant - but smart enough) - I'm also incredibly lazy.

Handsomest has a sneaky, pseudo-psychological party trick that he likes to spring on people. He asks his victim to recite the seven sins from memory. The theory goes that the first vice that springs to mind is the vice that you are most guilty of. Needless to say mine was sloth closely followed by gluttoney (for the record, Handsomest's was lust).