March 2nd, 2012 at 1:25 pm by Stupid Rubbish

Why is it so f*cking impossible to just be normal when you accidentally see someone you know, just a little bit sooner than you meant to?

You know what I mean.

I mean that thing when you are walking down a road and you accidentally look up and see another human that you somehow know, but they’re too close to wave at and yet, too far away to speak to. Instantly rendering you completely mentally ill in a vain attempt try and f*ck-manage the situation.

If they were about forty yards further away, you’d have been completely fine.

You’d have simply done a facewave at them and then walked onwards happily towards them with your big face full of massive greet.

If they were within twenty feet of you, it’d have been even easier, you simply would have done a loud to medium hello and then done a shorter version of the forty-yard-greeting-face we’ve already discussed.

A striding greetlet.

But no… what happens is that they always fall into that impossible void where you can’t shout the length of the street and yet you can’t get to them quickly enough through that desperate haze to appear vaguely normal.

That corridor of indecision that invariably makes you do what is pretty much the stupidest f*cking thing in the entire universe…

You see them.

They see you.

And then you irrelevantly pretend you haven’t seen them yet.

You cheerfully look around at the street, suddenly massively over-interested in all the impossibly dull minutia of everything around you. Like a wide-eyed tw@tkitten in a room full of brightly coloured balloons, you play your part like a hopeful tosser, desperately trying to appear utterly oblivious.


The money shot.

You’ve been carefully gauging the precise distance between you, using your peripheral vision, until, like some kind of demented f*ckhunter, your instinct kicks-in and the very second they move into what your insecurity-riddled mind deems is an acceptable range…

You pounce.

Like an utter tw@t wearing a plastic mask of surprise.

You perform a pathetic pantomime greeting from deep inside the tingling sanctuary of your own crippling self-awareness.

And they play along.





2 Responses to “Greet and two veg.”

  1. fourstar says:

    I presume you are a connoisseur of ‘Liff’:

    CORRIEDOO (n.)
    The crucial moment of false recognition in a long passageway encounter. Though both people are perfectly well aware that the other is approaching, they must eventually pretend sudden recognition. They now look up with a glassy smile, as if having spotted each other for the first time, (and are particularly delighted to have done so) shouting out ‘Haaaaaallllloooo!’ as if to say ‘Good grief!! You!! Here!! Of all people! Will I never. Coo. Stap me vitals, etc.’

    Corridor etiquette demands that one a corriedoo (q.v.) has been declared, corrievorrie must be employed. Both protagonists must now embellish their approach with an embarrassing combination of waving, grinning, making idiot faces, doing pirate impressions, and waggling the head from side to side while holding the other person’s eyes as the smile drips off their face, until with great relief, they pass each other.

    The dreadful sinking sensation in a long passageway encounter when both protagonists immediately realise they have plumped for the corriedoo (q.v.) much too early as they are still a good thirty yards apart. They were embarrassed by the pretence of corriecravie (q.v.) and decided to make use of the corriedoo because they felt silly. This was a mistake as corrievorrie (q.v.) will make them seem far sillier.

  2. Just brilliant! I hadn’t read those… :D