April 24th, 2008 | 29 Comments »

My long suffering younger brother, Dizzee, father of Wild Child, still speaks to me after all the torture Mr. Trick and I put him through. I’m grateful for this because he is basically kind and quite funny.

We had a period of estrangement in our adult lives that we decided to put aside when The Papa got really really sick. I think we did it for him, although I believe The Papa didn’t care much for Dizzee’s decision to associate with a Tool of Satan.

When we were kids, we lived the military life. No disobedience, no questioning orders. The Papa may have been a corporal at work, but he was the General at home.

When my parents separated, the kids went with The Papa. There were periods of time that we were only supervised by our older sister. This would be the one that made us smoke when she babysat us so we wouldn’t tell on her for smoking. I love her, really, but people? That is messed UP.

So older sister became the queen bee. Dizzee was around nine by the time he really started acting out because he missed his mom. We all did, but I think it hurt him the most.

He would have temper tantrums and Mr. Trick and I would fill a tub full of cold water and throw him in to “cool him off”. We really just wanted to shut him up because he was an annoying little brother. And because it was one thing we could get away with. We totally wanted to smack him, but we weren’t allowed.

He must have marvelled at what great parents we would be someday.

Our fun-loving favourite uncle visited often, and regaled us with what I now realize were inappropriate stories. We figured he could do no wrong.

One of the stories involved a friend passing out drunk, and to punish him, Unk and his other buddies painted the guy’s willy red, so he would have a lovely surprise when he woke up all hungover.

We thought that was the best story ever. We laughed and laughed.

And schemed how we could have that kind of fun without access to alcohol.

We secured a supply of red paint, and the next time Dizzee had a hissyfit while The Papa was at work, we held Dizzee down and painted that puppy red.

I still remember how gobsmacked we were when The Papa was furious with us over this particular stunt.

“But, Dad! We didn’t smack him!”

Oh, the injustice.

Like I said, it’s a wonder Dizzee talks to me at all.

(Dizzee didn’t mind whipping it out when it wasn’t red.)

And? He’s such a good sport, he gave me permission to publish this picture.

Tags:
Posted in Dizzee, down home
April 23rd, 2008 | 15 Comments »

Today is the day of the brain fog. Trying to find a story that would magically tell itself did not happen. So while cruising other blogs, I came across the Queen of Memes, Candy. She’s the Queen because she says they fill her with happiness. I know who to tag when I have a meme to unload, by golly.

You.
Can.
Only.
Type.
One.
Word.

Not as easy as you might think.
Remember: one word answers.

1.Where is your mobile phone? non-existant

2.Your significant other? Ditto

3.Your hair? Drying

4.Your mother? Dead

5.Your father? Not

6.Your favorite thing? Computer

7.Your dream last night? Forgettable

8.Your favorite drink? Merlot

9.Your dream/goal? Attainable

10.The room you’re in? Huge

11.Your ex? Forsaken

12.Your fear? Pain

13.Where do you want to be in 6 years? Here

14.Where were you last night? Home

15.What you’re not? Gullible

16.Muffins? No

17.One of your wish list items? Camera

18.Where you grew up? Canada

19.The last thing you did? Showered

20.What are you wearing? Jammies

21.Your TV? Old

22.Your pets? Imaginary

23.Your computer? Plaything

24.Your life? Boring

25.Your mood? Crappy

26.Missing someone? Mom

27.Your car? Imaginary

28.Something you’re not wearing? Bra

29.Favorite Store? Hiltribe

30.Your summer? Travelling

31.Like someone? Most

32.Your favorite color? Green

33.When is the last time you laughed? Today

34.Last time you cried? Dunno.

Anybody who is hard up for a story? Feel free to use this. I’d tag Candy, but I already stole this one from her

Posted in memes
April 22nd, 2008 | 27 Comments »

My BFF, Skinny Bitch, is a very confident woman. She has no body image issues what.so.freaking.ever. I know. She’s a freak.

When I met her, she had no boobies. Just nipples. Really. In fact, one time she made a crack about flashing a nipple at someone, and added “And I DO mean a nipple.” She was fine with that.

The one drawback is that she is a clothes horse. And? Certain clothing was off-limits to her because it required actual boobage to fill it out. Thus began the carefully thought-out campaign to get her some boobies. She asked opinions. SB didn’t want a gigantic rack, just enough to fill out her clothing.

She demonstrated by calling a girl over who had the right size A cups, and told her we all wanted to look at her cute dress close up, when in reality, we were assessing her boobies, and mentally cut and pasting them onto Skinny Bitch’s nipples.

Skinny Bitch was in bra and clothing heaven after her implants. She had never owned a bra before, and she found a whole lot of them on sale, because of their small size. She bought 25 of them.

The first time I saw her after her operation, she met me for an hour in a diner across from the bus terminal, as I wasn’t scheduled to visit in her city that weekend.

Right in front of God and old ladies, she whipped up her shirt and showed me her new boobies. In the diner. She made me repeat the words “They are spectacular” (Big Seinfeld fan) I dutifully admired the spectacle, but drew the line at feeling them in the diner. I would take her word that they felt natural.

I was telling our mutual buddy, Will-Yummy, about SB’s latest adventure, and warned him that she would offer to let him feel them. He may be gay, but he’s an excellent sport.

Sure enough, when we were both in her city, the three of us arranged to go out together, and before we left, she had to show him. And let him feel, because they were all natural feeling. He made the obligatory oohs and ahhs. SB was giddy.

I wonder if it occurred to her that he had nothing to compare them to. You know, him being gay and all.

Posted in Skinny Bitch
April 21st, 2008 | 65 Comments »

Contest is now over!

Knudsey likes to accuse me of trying to make money or getting votes, and I’m not saying he is wrong. This time, though, I’m all about the giving. I know! I’m fabulous that way. So I decided to enter the Bloggy Giveaways Carnival

bloggy carnival

Here’s what you do: Leave an actual comment, not a cut and paste thingie like “Count me in”. If you’ve never been here before, tell me that I smell nice or something. That reminds me. I totally need to hose myself off. Each comment you leave between now and Friday will go into the random number generator to come up with the winnah. One comment per entry, and that gives everyone five chances to win!

If you are really smart, you could subscribe to my feed. See the big shiny button thing in the sidebar? That one. I’m posting tomorrow about Skinny Bitch’s Boob job. You wouldn’t want to miss that would you? And then you can comment and get another crack at the prize. Bonus! I highlight my clever commenters each Sunday, and one of them gets an award. I have the best commenters evah. Be one of the cool kids.

Here’s what you get:

The artist, Doris Muise, made a series of this woodcut print especially for me, and hand coloured each of them. She did it to honour my totem vision of whale and eagle. She asked what about eagle was significant to me, and I replied that it was the eye, the seeing from a great height with clear vision. I only have four left of the series of 50. I will ship the print without a frame, as the framing is a personal choice. If you feel affinity for whale or eagle, or if you just appreciate powerful art, this is a must-have print.

So what are you waiting for? Subscribe to my feed and tell me you love me. By the time you read this, I should be smellng nice.

April 20th, 2008 | 11 Comments »

Commenters here are wicked funny and they smell nice. Some of the stuff they write is so good, I just have to share. I can’t pick just one to highlight. But I can pick just one to receive the award. I have no formula, no rhyme or reason. I just dadgum pick one. Some of you are trying to win this award again. You can do that if you have multiple blogs, but I do like to spread the love around.

From Weird Search Strings

Marie reveals how to make her horny. We can’t pass that up.

How to make me horny:

1. Look and talk like Gerard Butler

2. Be strong, silent, and mysterious

3. Wear lots of black

4. Bathe often, to the point of obsession would be good

5. Play an instrument. Not the drums. But don’t sing.

6. Be intelligent, but not a know-it-all.

7. Once 1-6 have been completed, crook your finger in my general direction and smile. That should do it.

From Spring?

Warrior Woman sez:

summer brings flowers,

brings bugs,

makes me run for cover.

well at least I get some exercise

From Grammie’s Present

Jenny observes:

Darn! I kept wondering who had hot flashes all day while the voodoo doll was on fire.

Kelly quips:

I loves me some arse. It rolls off the tongue much better than the vulgar ‘ass’. And your Grammie is all I aspire to be. Any woman that has the guts to BURN a voodoo doll is awesome in my book.

Our pal, Lucille, or rather lou ceel, reveals:

My old Mum lives with us. Grannie is 82 years old and sits all day doing genealogy on her laptop. That or playing online poker. She doesn’t hear very well, so we got her 900mhz earphones so she can hear the TV – she watches as much Perry Mason as she possibly can. She keeps saying “where do they keep getting these Perry Mason episodes I’ve never seen before?” I love her very much – but it must be fun where she is.

From Two Weeks of Commenting:

Knudsey has his say with me:

Ah the pressure to be witty and thought provoking or thought perverting as I do. Am I the only one to notice that you haven’t pleaded for votes or talked about money in over a week? What have you done with witchypoo you alien scum? I thought I’d seen the last of the blogging shape shifters when I blew up Uranus with my missile master 3000, hey if you take this comment the wrong way then yer just perverted or adventurous one of the two.

Warrior Woman, who always has something to say:

so that’s it, they left a transmitter somewhere in your head and now I’m a victim of “Big Alien Is Watching You” great, that’s just great your Netti Pot is actually an alien probe and you’re not washing out the snot, you’re putting battery juice in the thing. man………I knew all that pizza was too good to be true. alterior motives – you has em.

From Twins:

Knudsey totally cracked me up. You’ll have to put this on your other blog, Knudsey. It’s a winnah!

She’ll feel really feel it when the babies ‘crown’

You,too, can aspire to greatness. Just leave your funny or insightful comment on my blog. No pressure, heh.

Posted in Peep of the Week