Sunday, May 24, 2015

A Whiter Shade of Pale

fusion 4a

Love white.

I think I started my love affair when people started telling me all the rules concerning it. 

You can't wear white past Labour Day.
Never wear white to a wedding unless you are the bride.
Don't wear white to a funeral.
For God's sake change her into play clothes before she ruins her Sunday dress.
You have to wear a slip or something under white, what would happen if it got wet?
Don't wear white if you are trying to look slimmer.

I like things other people pick on.  The heart wants what the heart wants.

Saturday, May 23, 2015

4 Eyes, Bug Eyes.

foxy 1


I had to get glasses when I was in school.  I am not sure why.

I have a theory.  I think my grandparents wanted to make me look more intelligent than I really was.  People tend to overlook insanity when they think it is a by-product of intelligence.   They also frequently sent me to school with boxes of candy to share.  I think they hoped that I might be able to buy some friends.   Pfft forget that ... I ate all the candy myself.

OK I did share them with a boy named Leonard ... only because Leonard showed me this really cool hide out in an old garage down the road from my school and we would go there and hang out and arrange all the old files and tools that were left in there.   Look, don't judge me for my childhood.  It was the most fun ever and yes I am a bit OCD, why do you ask?  When you share that kind of bond with someone, you share your candy.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Locked Out of Life

blew it 1

What was the big deal about staying in a hotel when you went into the city and partied all night.  Anyone make it back to the actual room they rented?  Anyone?

Anyone make it to any room in that hotel?? 

I didn't think so.

Monday, May 18, 2015

It Really Is A Miracle I Am Here to Tell The Tale.

white sands 2

10 speed bikes were a big deal for us.  Prior to that we had bikes like the old 50's and 60's movies.  That is because we grew up in the 50's and 60's.

I never wanted a girls bike ... those were for girls.

I knew how to lift my leg over a bar.  I had skills.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Sunrise. Sunset. Help Me Make It Through The Night.

Sunset 1

I got talked into having this older couple sing at our wedding.  They were significant to my husband.

They were going to sing "Sunrise, Sunset" From Fiddler on the Roof.

The wedding went fine, apart from the flower girl who was doing a mean interpretation of the future in which a half naked woman wearing cones on her breasts and her underpants over her other clothes would prance around a stage in front of millions, "Vogue-ing."  When I whispered to her during the ceremony, asking what she was doing, she informed me she was "being a tree."   Her mother told her she need to stand tall and straight and quiet like a tree.  Being a creative child she was channeling a tree except one in a violent windstorm with a fierce strobe light back lighting everything.   

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Soul Music.

play it again sam 2

In one of the older churches there was this really cool old pump organ that you played by moving your feet in a pedalling motion using your feet.  We snuck in every chance we got and fought over who got to play it.  We became experts at speed playing because we have about 9.5 seconds before an adult would appear and bellow  "WHAT DO YOU KIDS THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

Monday, May 11, 2015

If The Suitcase Fits.

ready to go

My brother and I had a bet about whether or not a person could fit in a suitcase.  I told him there was absolutely no way.

I called him a liar.  I told his friends and we all laughed at him. 

Friday, May 8, 2015

Solitary Confinement.

flying 3
The light burned out in my closet while my hubby was away  and for two weeks I kept walking into the closet and flipping the switch and experiencing disappointment over and over again.

I didn't plan on being insane.

It just sort of crept up on me.

Thursday, May 7, 2015

The Horned Beast.

redlight 1

There was a lady who went to our church who had a kind of horn thing growing out of her head.  I can't be sure because we were not supposed to stare at her.

You don't stare at people because it is rude.  In church you don't stare because it is rude and unkind and Jesus would never stare.   We were supposed to always ask ourselves, "What would Jesus do?"   Of course he wouldn't stare.  He designed her AND he can see everything.  He knew darn well what she looked like.

I had no clue because every time my eyeballs even looked like they were thinking of scanning anywhere near her direction, I was smacked on the back of the head.  I am lucky I even have any eyeballs left. 

Sunday, May 3, 2015

The Big Announcement.

SUNRISE 1

Overdressing is an art.

I had an aunt who pronounced it so.  She was big on both announcements and pronouncements.  I liked to call her "Megaphone Mouth," but only in my head when I was heavily tin-foiled and no-one else could hear.    She announced when she was going to die.  She spent her life like that so starting the afterlife with one big announcement made perfect sense.   She announced what she was doing, what everyone else was supposed to be doing and what was going to happen to those who were not doing what they were supposed to be doing.

sunrise 2

I suppose some people imagined she had some kind of second sight but I caught on early.  She would announce that the ladies sewing circle should be using the crystal punch bowl for the Evening in Paris Dinner as it was much more tasteful and elegant than the silver one Mrs. Eden suggested.  They would have a vote and she would smile through clenched false teeth and thin lipsticked lips that somehow she managed to bend into a semi smile despite the taut well trained muscles that held that part of her face in a permanent scowl,  that, "yes, of course the majority vote has to be considered and silver it was."  But then she would sigh and say she wished the horrible pit in her stomach would go but it wouldn't.  She had a feeling, a really bad feeling ....  Then her one hand would fly to her forehead, the back of the thin gloved claw pressed against a temple and she would say, "I don't know why God burdens me with knowing these things, but he just does."

All the other women  would pretend not to hear her for a couple of reasons.  First they would be busy  getting the silver punch bowl down and shining it up while whispering about ways they might be able to get rid of my aunt, and secondly because they were really stupid.

The evening would come, the silver punch bowl filled with punch, people drank it, and people died.  Well they wish they had died.  The hospital had to annex a circus tent from a traveling show  to accommodate all the people for a few days.

And my aunt smiled a genuine smile - requiring even more muscle control, and accepted offerings from people who assured her they never doubted her for a second.

That was when I learned that anyone could be a psychic or God's messenger if they were prepared to sacrifice others to further their own cause.  Oh ... and had a 1-800 number of course.

So once she announced she was going to die ... and after the cheering and celebration quieted down ...she arrived at her bed, every night, dressed to the nines, full make-up, hair coiffed.   Her hubby was not allowed to touch her or move in the bed in case he "mussed" her up.  She was going to be meeting St. Peter, and later God, and she intended on making a good first impression. 

She was really good at explaining to us that being well dressed was your ticket to the best table in life.   Of course she insisted everyone would want the table with all the other well dressed people.   She was ALWAYS seated at the best table.

sunrise 4

I spent a good portion of my childhood trying to figure out why anyone would want to sit for the whole of eternity  at a whole table full of shallow minded loons like my aunt.


SKIN:  7DS  Temperance Skin Fair Special
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Friday, May 1, 2015

Another Gore-y Inconvenient Truth.

hip and aware 1

In Canada we like to disguise our poverty.

Take pop, for instance.

hip and aware 2

We drink a lot of it.  And then we throw away the cans and bottles.  But we give money back for the bottles when people hand them in.  Hey don't judge us, we get bored and we have to make games with what we can.

People used to throw bottles and cans  out the windows of their speeding cars along the highways.  They weren't even trying to hit anything, not a gopher to help the farmers, not a buffalo to have food for the winter, and not even a fence post to prove their skill.  They often even missed the ditch.  And the ditches there are very big.  It could have been a great game but we made up for it with the whole Pick-Up-Bottles game that followed.

People would come along and collect the bottles out of the ditch.   The government allowed that because they are very smart and compassionate.  First of all the ditches needed to be cleaned and politicians are way too busy building new, more durable, fences to sit on.  Second of all it costs way more money to  pay people to pick up the garbage, sooo ... you let the poor people do it and give them a few pennies for each bottle.  Then when people drive along, especially the tourists,  instead of going, "oh look, how sad, there is a poor person having to pick bottles out of the ditches in order to have money, what kind of country is this," people say, "oh wow, those/us Canadians we are so swell and 'green conscientious' they/we are out there picking up garbage, even before the rest of the world is screaming green and before Al Gore was out of diapers." 

Ok I confess some people said, "Al who?"

No-one had their dinner ruined by seeing messy ditches or poor people.  The government was sensitive to the fact so many of us Canadians already had tough things to deal with at dinner time ... Like the cost of garbage bags for them to scrape their left over food into.  Especially on holidays.  People had problems scraping enough food to feed half their neighbourhood for 8 weeks into the garbage after Thanksgiving, because everyone said, "better save room for the dessert buffet and not eat anymore of the main meal."  How could you ask them to lift their heads from their dessert buffet to reflect on the sight on poor people bottle picking out of their ditches???

Rich people could feel really swell that they threw their bottles and cans out of the windows because it meant they cared about the poor people out there and were doing their bit.  They felt really swell-er if they drank lots of pop, and some did, they were that committed.

Not to mention the great feeling when your car is not messy because you have empty bottles in it.  I hate that annoying clinking sound when they roll around on the floor and bump into each other when you are driving.

But then it all changed and suddenly there were too many poor people and not enough bottles to go around and there were fights in the ditches in Canada.  It was no longer safe to hang out in roadside ditches because gangs of homeless people banned together and staked their territory, to try and control the recycle trade.

And then there were even more poor people and we were not throwing our bottles out of the windows of our car anymore.  We were keeping them, and putting them in a big box when we got home, that we kept locked safe in the garage and filled with all out bottles and cans and took back ourselves when they got full and kept the money so we could buy more pop.

And all kinds of charities, sent out cute kids to beg us for our pop bottles so they could feed the poor who were too weak from hunger to go to the ditches anymore and needed someone else to try and help them.  We all lied and said we didn't have any bottles to give to the cute little kids and then made sure our own kids buried our bottles in the back yard in the middle of the night when no-one could see so that they were safe until we could take them into the bottle depot.  And we wore disguises when we went to the bottle depots and we trained ourselves not to scream and dance with excitement when we got anything over $15.00 back.

And then the unthinkable happened ... people stopped drinking so much pop.

And then they stopped driving so much.

Then some of them did not even have cars and those that did were probably living in them.

And now they are all sitting around a candle, trying to keep warm in the middle of summer because Al Gore screwed up the whole season thing and nice weather with his Global warming movie and they are hungry and THEY HAVE NO POP!  And now the Canadians are mad at the Americans because they birthed Al Gore and then let him out of the country to damage everyone's weather.

hip and aware 3

But we have nice clean ditches and the air is much better without so many cars.

And some really awesome fences got built for the politicians who got really rich as they sat.

And I think this may be a conspiracy theory and I am sorry if I scared the heck out of you but someone has to talk about pop because we were all supposed to be singing, the whole world .. that is what they promised .. and now this ....

Someone should probably star the heck out of this article and make sure David Icke sees it.


SKIN:  ryuukou aine cognac
FEET and HANDS:  SLink
HAIR:  [kik]hair-Nora(black)
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LOCATION:  Gehena Bauhaus
  

Sunday, April 26, 2015

They Made It!

burnt orange 3

I am beyond relieved.

I just realized that I have worried myself sick for years over nothing.  I bet you have been worrying too, so consider this a get well card, sans the fluffy kitties because  fluffy kitties are too fluffy for my liking, which is why I currently have a lizard ... named "fluffy."

Don't make this a Freudian thing.

He doesn't know he is my pet but whenever I see him running past me in the yard, I yell at him to "sit."  One day he will, and then the whole world will know I have a pet lizard.  Oshi will be the most proud of me because she is the lizard lady and my hero.

burnt orange 2

Anyway, after school I was so worried, what was going to happen to all those "hall monitors" and "teacher's pets?"   Don't tell me that you not spent night after night weeping into your pillow, unable to sleep, as you think about those poor lost souls.  I mean all that talent, telling on everyone else, telling us all what to do all the time . . . WHAT. A.  WASTE.

I watched for them in every hall I ever walked down.  I used to purposely run down the hall in my own house, with scissors, thinking they would surely jump out and write me up.  They never showed.    

And then I realized, have you been on line lately?

Those kids survived the end of the world.  Just like the cockroaches.  

They are there interrupting every conversation, editing someone, grammatically correcting, telling people what they should say or shouldn't say, when they should apologize, that they are going to report them.  THEY MADE IT!

And damn it, they don't act, a day over 13.

Just today I sat there reading one woman give point by point details to another woman what words she can use, what she was thinking and how she should apologize. She eluded to how everyone would agree with her and I suddenly knew, they all lived together.  They have regular meetings and they appoint one another bosses of the world and they go out ... just like Mormon missionaries ... only they go alone because they are not afraid ... and they don't knock on your computer screen, offer you a magazine, or even sing you a song.  They just bust right in and start monitoring.  

How have we ever managed to even breathe without their constant help?  It is exactly like having a guardian angel, except without any love or good will.

I was overcome with nostalgia.  I was right back in the cafeteria, smelling meatloaf and sour milk, with Susan Guise telling me that I was not allowed to say "damn" and that she was going to tell the minister, who was coming over for dinner that night to her house, and I would probably go to hell.

 I just want to give a big shout out to Susan and say, " hey," and, " The bus to hell has not showed up yet, can't those damn bus drivers even tell time?" Oh ya and, "So sorry to hear about the minister running off with your mom and leaving you with your dad."

burnt orange 1


I may be overstating it all but I am thinking we should probably stand and all hold hands and sing "The Circle of Life." or something.

Someone keep an eye out for the hall monitor....


SKIN:  ^^Swallow^^ Sarah 08 Gatcha
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Monday, April 20, 2015

Release The Doves.

folded wings

Sometimes life kicks the romance right out of you.  Too much information can do that to you.

Take weddings.

City girls love the idea of stepping out of the church and someone releases a bunch of white doves that flutter off into the sky.  I think it is supposed to represent her virginity has just flown the coop never to be seen again or something like that.  I would think, as her parents stand there and see the doves going all over the place and in different directions that they might be a bit concerned, but maybe some people can hold their symbolism in check.

I can't.

My mind wanders where other people never seem to go.

folded wings 2

But those brides have that idea and they think oh, how lovely, and gentle, and pastoral.  White doves ... that match the white in my dress, and my shoes ... and my grandmother's hair ... and the one bridesmaid who is going to become a nun and didn't drink a drop at the hen's party so her eyes aren't even the teeniest bit blood shot.   Those brides think, "our love is off to the heavens,"  "our love lifts above this earth,"  "our love is carried to the angels."  

I think angels are only allowed 1 of 2 types of pets, fluffy white kitties, or white doves.  Fluffy kitties can't fly.  Well, you could throw them up into the air and argue they are flying at the points between where they leave your hands, stop in mid air, and then crash back into the ground . . . but I think that is pretty sick.  Most of the guests would miss the going up part because they would be screaming and then the coming down part because either their eyes would be closed or they would be running around trying to catch fluffy kitties dropping from the heavens.  Then there would always be someone who would make an inappropriate joke about the weather is not that bad ...  it is only raining cats ... just a light shower ....

So hence, doves  . . . that fly ...to the angels ...with their love.

But growing up on the farm and seeing the mess that any flying flock of birds leave as they take off, I would be suggesting, flying fluffy kittens might be the lesser of two evils.  Actually, releasing white mice would probably be the safest bet  and they could scurry away with the virginity, match grandma, and when they are eaten by fluffy white kittens that were not born in heaven and so were not with the angels, all about the love of the wedding.   When those kittens are killed and their guts are made into harp strings they can telepathically and musically let the angels know that love was released to be sealed in heaven.

Of course by then the couple could be divorced, or the whole virginity fear of the different directions could have happened and then it would be a waste of telepathic energy and when the angels are busy listening to what would be just cruel gossip at that point, some fluffy kitten on earth would probably drown because the angel missed their call.

folded wings 3

Which is why I cry at most weddings.

If any of you were wondering.

Drowning kittens do that to me, every time.


SKIN:  Glam Affair - Grazia skin - Jamaica 01 @Uber 
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NAIL POLISH:  [Bamboo] Nails - Silvery Satin
MAKE-UP:  ATIA's Soft Focus Eyeliner Tattoo 7
                    ATIA's Beauty Marks
                    #adored - last night - smoke pack
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Monday, April 13, 2015

Could Someone Just Please Explain The Seventies to Me.

morning fog 1

I got fired the one and only time in my life because I did not wear a bra.  I was hired to work in a nursing home and after three nanoseconds, I was called into the office.

I was going to hell AND I was fired.

morning fog 2

I could have fought it.  I had a blouse on with a pullover baggy sweater on top.  Even with my bra, given the freezing temperature that they kept the nursing home in, presumably to keep the corpses for a few days until the morgue could make their rounds, my nipples would have been detectable.  Well, I mean IF someone had stared at them for a long long time, crossed their eyes a little and mistook some pilling for a bump.  Seriously, my nipples and my breasts were pretty much non events at the time.

Also nowhere in the information package did it state that someone would be inspecting my underwear or that I was required to provide my own.  For all I know I wasn't wearing any underpants that day either. 

I had other priorities in my youth.

Besides I was speaking to a woman who looked like her bra was probably made of canvas and rivets.  She looked like she tried out to be a nun, the one who walked around and smacked kids knuckles with a yardstick and then spent the rest of the day planning new ways to carry out nun penance ... like kneeling on broken beer bottles.  I think they turned her down because she scared the hell out of them.  At any rate I know for a fact she had never married and so in fairness, he bra had probably never come off . . . not even in the bath tub.  She probably knew if it had, she would have done something completely crazy like touched them with her wash cloth.

She hated breasts.  She really hated mine and those were surpassed only by her hatred of her own.  

Later I got a job as a secretary/gopher because I didn't wear a bra.  My breasts were a little more interesting and evidently evidence of my ability to type and fetch coffee.  I was wearing underpants for those of you who are planning on penning my life story once I am done here.

I know my boss liked me most on the days when I didn't bra those puppies up.  I learned how to navigate life with my boobs leading the way.  I was heady with the power of it all.

But I was still going to hell.

Then I grew up and I started to worry about hell.

It is these kinds of mixed messages that make us completely messed up grown-ups who have not got a clue what we are doing.  And then God hands us babies.  I just think someone needs to point out that I am still confused on the whole bra burning things ... was it a good thing?  What happened?   Did  we win?  What did we win?  When do we get our prizes?  

Does anyone else know that we won?

Do they care??

morning fog 3

What the hell ... can someone just tell me ... are my boobies free or not???

SKIN:  :[ Al Vulo! ] - [ Salina ] - [ Dolly milk TDRF]
FEET and HANDS:  SLink
HAIR:  ""D!va"" Hair "Yunie" (Moon stone)
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Saturday, April 11, 2015

Making the Most Out of Those Motorcycle Moments.

scooter 2

We didn't really have scooters.  Farmers don't scoot.  And farmers attempting to be cool, after the whole combine tractor debacle could not take another hit with "scooters."  We amped it up to motorcycles.

My brush with motorcycles is a compelling love story/instruction manual.

scooter 1

His name was Victor Rogerson and he was funny, and intelligent and had freckles.  He wrote in my autograph book,

"Freckle freckle on my nose
I know not why it's me you chose
Or who you are, or where you're from,
So I'll kill you with my thumb."

Of course in Grade 3 speak everyone knew that meant he was totally into me.   It went on for years.

I liked that he read books that were not the books I had read and that he talked about things I did not already know.  I liked that we both knew we liked each other but we didn't have to say or do anything really about it.

It was always an unspoken between us.

He was my first guy FRIEND.  He took off a lot of the black my brother had smeared all over the idea of boys and what they were about.

And HE had a motorcycle when we were older.  Well, it was his older brother's who looked like Ilya Kuryakin from The Man FromU.N.C.L.E. and I LOVED that show.  It just made the whole thing sexier.  And he gave me a ride on it around the yard and then he brought it to the school sports day once and we went off on it together.

That's it, nothing more.  I grew up when the idea of holding hands for the first time was a total butterfly in stomach thing so riding on the back of a guys motorcycle was so sexual I can't even tell you about it.

When my brother and I went to see him one time, as he was conveniently one of my brother's good friends, he took me on another ride.  I loved driving through the wheat feels, catching grasshoppers in my teeth without even trying.  And when we wiped out on the gravel roads and I got the complete epidural scrub for free ... awesome!  Had my grandparents found me in the bedroom with him tangled around my body, our hair in disarray, our clothes shredded and half off our bodies, he would probably not have made it out of the bedroom alive.  But make that happen out on a lonely country dirt road, throw a motorcycle into the scene and suddenly everyone is hugging you and offering you ice-cream.

scooter 3

I suddenly realized there was a way to negotiate puberty, address our raging hormones, achieve our goals, and do it with the blessings of our parents.  It just involved road rash and a bit of pain. 

But anything worth having, is worth the pain to get there right?

Note:  remove the dead semi dead grasshoppers from your teeth before applying "mouth to mouth" at the scene of the accident - trust me - it is more romantic that way.  And of course, even knee scrapes require mouth to mouth.  Remember, he LOOKED like he was not breathing.


SKIN:  ** [PUMEC]  - ELENA:. SKIN - Summer **
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PLACE:  Tudor

Friday, April 10, 2015

Abandoned Warehouses I Have Known And Loved.

clean slate 3

My childhood was pretty brutal.  We learned hard lessons in unspeakable ways.  You might want to get out the hankie now, this is yet another sad sad tale.

Wandering around the prairies as kids, trying to find something to do, I mean after we had exhausted looking at the cows and weaving wheat, making pictures with wheat, chewing the wheat, smoking the wheat . . . . it was tough to find things to do.

clean slate 1

So we wandered.  We reeeeaaaallly wandered. . . as far as our little legs would take us in a given day.
And we would find awesome, abandoned buildings.  Some were just granaries out in the middles of the field with some old grain, a dead mouse and/or bird somewhere inside and we were left with our imaginations to claim it as a fort or a castle or maybe a clubhouse. 

Surprisingly we also found old houses in various states of left-overness.  Some had furniture and odds  and ends.  Some were falling down and some housed other animals that had moved in.  We had great fun with those.

But the best one was this old run down house we found hidden by some trees.  There was a dirt track leading up to it, almost hidden in the tall grass.  It was stuffed to the rafters with old junk and furniture - and about 30 feral cats.    First we were pirates, rifling through everything for treasure, and then we started to think about the potential.  CLUBHOUSE!!!   So we raced home and convinced the grandparents that we should go camping and we promised up and down and sideways we would not go far and we would only leave first thing in the morning, stay one nights, and be back the next day before supper.  It was summer, we were bored stupid and probably the idea of getting rid of our whining little butts for a couple of days, sounded too good to miss.  Besides ... how much trouble could we get into among the wheat, cows and gophers? 

YEEEEHAWWW!  

We chased off most of the cats, who were happy to run the moment they saw us, and then we  fixed it up, sort of.  We had limited cleaning skills owing to the fact we had a maid who cleaned our rooms.  Our efforts consisted of shoving all the junk over to one side of the house, closing the doors on it all and focusing on a couple of rooms we proceeded to decorate with our finds.  We painted a sign and stuck it on the outside of the door telling people to keep out and proclaiming it our own private clubhouse.  Then we sat down and began to eat some of the sandwiches we had brought. 

I heard, "I have a gun and I know how to use it," right before the gun went off and sent a cat flying through the air and into a wall.  I considered that he perhaps did not actually know how to use the gun, or at the very least he did not know how to use it well.  I also considered that "I have a gun and have no idea how to use it," would actually be a whole lot more scary to most people.  It certainly was to me because even if he wasn't aiming at me, I could still die.

That was about the time we heard, "Come on out with your hands in the air, the house is surrounded."  It took us a minute, my brother and I both peed our pants before we managed to shuffle out from under the table and into the yard where a group of policemen waited for us.  They were actually mad at us and not the old cat killer with the gun.  They asked him if he wanted to press charges and no-one even bothered about the cat, or the fact my jeans were probably completely ruined.  


clean slate 2

It turned out the house was not deserted, old Mac Werthers lived there.  People in drunken stupors, lying under piles of garbage dressed in camouflaged  dirty smelly clothes that perfectly match the couch, rugs and walls , with feral cats howling and hissing to deflect your attention . . . are difficult to see.

I don't know how long it took us to get over the whole experience.  That was the first time I think we fully grasped that not everyone had a maid.  Some traumas stay with you a lifetime.


SKIN: .::WoW Skins::. Ivy Tan
HAIR:  Magika [01] Flourish
EYES:  Marina . Eyes - Ink
LASHES:  Miamai_Jaguar Lashes
TEETH:  [:T:] Parted lips
EYESHADOW:  #adored - last night - warm pack
PLAYSUIT:  // SEUL \\  Emile Playsuit - Nude
BOOTS:  AsHmOoT_AW Coll_High Knee Boots #03_Leather
BAG:  *LpD* - *Tilde* Bag White 2 Versions
POSES:  Ma Vie
  

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

The Late Great Science Project

madame 3

My brother read in an encyclopaedia that our eyebrows are important because they, along with our eyelashes, help to keep dirt out of our eyes.  He theorized that if dirt got into our eyes, we could get an infection that could get into our brain and we could die. 

Please don't ask me to explain the mind of a 9 year old boy.

madame 2

I was the victim of the crime.  He lured me into the forest to see the nest of baby birds he had found, tied me up to a tree and shaved off my eyebrows.  He probably would have plucked out my eyelashes but I had good teeth and managed to gnaw one of the ropes off and gave him a black eye.

BTW, I am the one that got in trouble because a punch could have caused real damage and my eyebrows would grow back. 

Why was it common practice for people to buy entire sets of encyclopaedias for their kids and never even check them out to make sure what kind of information they contained?  They could have been porn, or the complete guide for being a serial killer, and they would never have known.  "Here kids, go get educated." 

I became his entry project for the Science Fair.  He observed me to see how long it would take for me to die.  He kept blowing dirt at me and dragging me outside into the fallowed fields when it was windy.  He kept a chart and built a coffin that he hoped I would be in for the big day and he could prove that we did indeed owe our lives to our eyebrows.  It would be my death in the name of science so it would all be worth it.  

He even did up a fake driver's license for me and donated my entire body to his science project.

The big day came and of course I was still alive.  He cried and carried on that I had ruined his entire project. He accused me of blinking more than normal and of washing my face too often, just to wreck it for him.  

My project however went ahead without fail.


madame 1

My project was proving that "stupid" does not float.  It actually has density, lots of "dense-ity."  It involved my brother sitting on a little platform wearing a shirt that said "stupid."  By pushing a button, the platform gave way and he was released into a big  see-through tank of water.  He would always go straight to the bottom of the tank and only by making movements with his hands and feet would be rise up to the top. 

I had wanted to compare that with duct taping his arms and legs so he could not move and proving he would just stay at the bottom of the tank but my teacher pointed out that the coffin he had built for me was not big enough for him. 

I guess that proves that "stupid" also occupies more space than intelligence too.

Ahh childhood memories .. they are just so ... magical in their nostalgic dreamlike quality aren't they?  My screen fogged up several times while I was typing this.


SKIN:  Birdy. Maisie Skin VIP gift
FEET:  SLink
EYES:  Marina . Eyes - Ink
LASHES:  *GA* Mesh Lashes Magnificia
NAIL POLISH:  Candy Nail  #P065 Japanese Soul Pink
LIPSTICK:  [PF] Elly - Glam Lipstick/Teeth - (Burgundy)
EYESHADOW:  #adored - totally warped eyeshadows
HAIR PIECE:  *Donna Flora* OSIRIS hairpiece ivory
SHOES:  #Queen - Business - dark brown
OUTFIT:  SAS - Flash Tan (80% Mesh)
POSES:  Roquai and Bent

Thursday, April 2, 2015

Dandelion Journey.

dandelion kisses 3

We had a girl in our school who had really bad hay fever.

I am not a doctor or anything but it seems to me if you have a kid who is really allergic to growing grasses, it is probably not the smartest thing to move out into the middle of nowhere where people spend their lives . . . growing grasses.

She always got to do drugs at school.

dandelion kisses 2

And no-one ever wanted her in their group because she would always be kind of passed out at her desk and it was hard to count on the tiki huts getting done for the Polynesian panorama that was meant to be the big finish for the Social project when the person in charge of that was passed out.  Never assign the tiki huts to someone with hay fever.

Why do they call it hay fever anyway?  It wasn't just hay AND she didn't really have a fever, she just had really scary red eyes and a drippy nose and she sneezed a lot.

I thought we should have capitalized on the talent we had and worked  Snow White into the drama schedule.  She was a shoe in for Sneezy.   I was pretty sure my brother could pull off Dopey. 

Our neighbour used to put out a whole Snow White tribute every Christmas.  I think he was running out of ideas, heard "snow" and got blinded and confused.  After you have 3000 Santa's, 2,458 Frosty the Snowmen, a multitude of reindeer, elves galore AND all the lights in Australia on your front lawn, I can see how it happened. 

He would put out Snow White in a glass case, passed out, already a victim of appleitis, and then have all the dwarves standing around, noses pressed to the glass coffin, weeping.  It was very moving, very effective.

I stole the dwarves one night and had them swimming in our pool, eating shrimps from the barbie and dancing naked in the moonlight.  I took pictures.  I made a quilt of them for Snow White's coffin so she could have some incentive to wake-up.  I think, after 9  years, no prince shows up .. she might have to lower her expectations and go for a dwarf.  I can attest to the fact Grumpy was a good kisser.

Anyway he (the neighbour, not Grumpy, although he took Grumpy with him so Grumpy moved too but he didn't want to go (see kissing above)) moved the next year.  He took all the Christmas gear with him.  I hoped it was nothing I said or did but it turned out is was ... completely.


dandelion kisses 1

So ya I saw the dandelions and thought about the girl with the hay/grass/dandelion/flowers/tikki hut grass fever all those years ago and then I thought about the play we should have done and then the neighbour with the Snow White display and thought I should share these important, life changing moments I had. 

I want your lives to be changed too.

And now, presto doodle doo, thanks to the magic of the internet and my typing fingers ... they are.

You're welcome.


SKIN:  [ S H O C K ] Janis Holidays Skin - Group Gift
HAIR:  (EPOQUE HAIR) Scandal
EYES:  Egozy.Eyes Enigmatic Collection Grey
LASHES:  *GA* Mesh Lashes Magnificia
NAIL POLISH:  Candy Nail  #P065 Japanese Soul Pink
LIPSTICK:  [PF] Glossy Pout Lipsticks
EYESHADOW:  Flirt - Colored Eye Ink - 5 Pack
FLOWERS HAIR:  !*Bliss Couture*! Uneeque Hat - Pink NLA
JEWELLERY SET:  Ear Candy ~ Cinderella Jewelry Set
GOWN:  *{Junbug}* Boho Bride [Blush]
POSES:  Roquai and Bent

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

An Impassioned Plea.

blue gecko 1

Some kids are lucky enough to get a dog or a cat for a pet. Some kids get a cow or a horse. Some are limited to a fish or a hamster. 

 I got a brother.

  blue gecko 2

I wanted to name him "Fluffy" but I was not allowed to name him.  No, no  . . . THAT privilege went to the people who dropped him off in my life and made me responsible for feeding and exercising him . . . not to mention house training him.  If someone ever tries to give you a pet that they have named, NEVER, accept it.  That means this is a "insert type of pet here" that someone else tried to love and they failed.  It is true, sometimes it is the fault of the people who bought the darn thing, but most likely, especially if the pet is a brother, the fault is completely in the pet.

Mine did not do a single trick that anyone cared about.  That is because no-one cares what you can stick up your nose, or what weird sounds you can make with your arm pitt.  Passing gas and burping are NOT tricks either.

Mine was forever doing stupid things. 

That is all that needs to be said about that statement.  No need going into detail about all the kinds of stupid things he did.  He did them.  ALL of them.

Mine was a tattle tale.  He was forever telling everyone everything.  Some of it mattered to me and some did not.  It doesn't matter to what degree your pet disobeys or ignores you, you still have a responsibility to teach your pet the right things to do.  I used electro shock therapy.

Stun  guns didn't work either.

Medication was pointless, even when we buried it in his Kraft Dinner, he refused to swallow it.  Some of my grandmothers best linens, walls, and other children are still stained with neon orange because of his projectile spitting.

Pets are meant to teach a child about love, and responsibility.  They are meant to be part of the warm hearted memories and video reels that you one day pull out and start to cry remembering what a great pet "Fluffy" was and all the good times you shared.  Pets are family members that are with you through some of the best times in your life, celebrating, and then comforting you through some of the worst.  This is the circle of life.  Norman Rockwell drew pictures of this.  Lassie and Old Yeller were the poster dogs for the whole movement.

This is a wonderful, good, heartwarming thing.

That is why I am asking now, that people the whole world over, join with me in a movement to ban brothers from the family home where they suck at being pets and just make little girls grow up hating men and the people who dumped their problem pet off on them.


blue gecko 3

THIS is why the world is upside down and all over the place and makes no sense.

Send your donations to me. 

Thank you.

(and mom, dad . . . I am not ever coming home again until you put him down.  Enough is enough.)


SKIN:  .::WoW Skins::. Ilenia Darktan Nat @SKIN Fair 2015
HAIR:  [RA] Nicki Hair Duos
EYES:  Egozy.Eyes Enigmatic Collection Grey
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NAIL POLISH:  Candy Nail #P000 Basic French Nails Green
LIPSTICK:  [PF] Glossy Pout Lipsticks
GOGGLES:  -DRD- Post apocalyptic Nerd - goggles
OUTFIT:  Asteria Creations - Lazuri Outfit Azul
BOOTS:  fri. - Wendy.Boots (Dingy)
LOCATION:  Tableau

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

They Let Me Pass The Bark.

lemon night 1

Against my better judgment, I went with a friend to a meeting where people get high on life and no-one ever even checks the kool-aid OR the brownies.

They claim it is spontaneous combustion.  Real energy ... flowing ....living in the moment.  Moment-ing all over the place.  I tried to explain to one of them once that people do expect some kind of flow of continuity from one moment to the next.   If you are really happy this moment, in the next moment you should at least still be kind of happy.   Like, you can't be happy, and then sad, and then angry, and then bored in 4 consecutive moments.  They call that shit "bipolar." 

Anyway I went and I promised myself just to smile and nod and not to roll my eyes.

lemon night 2

The speaker for the day talked about how we need to belong in our communities so that we can be part of the "change we want to see."  I actually liked the last speaker I heard at one of these things better.  He was advocating that we all find caves, retreat, eat bark and berries, and understand how much better than everyone else we were.  I think when the rapture comes, the first place God looks, is in the caves.

THIS speaker wanted us all to join in.  Someone said they have a hard time fitting in so we broke into groups to discuss ways we can break through those barriers.  We all have to be able to influence the world around us with our chakra tuned and balanced - yoga enhanced -qi gonged to death - energy.  They brought out extra plates of bark while we discussed and captured our ideas.

There was a whole bunch of stuff going on.   I think someone should address how eating nothing but bark tends to make people cranky and bitchy, albeit probably a very centred and flowing bitchiness, but bitchy none the less.

In the end we regrouped, counted everyone to make sure we had no dead bodies shoved under a chair or something, or that no-one had escaped.  These people are serious about their loving you - whether you want to be loved or not and they will hunt you down if you try to escape.  We made a universal list that we could all take home with us, to allow us to penetrate the enemy camp get out there and force them let us belong in our communities.

High on the list was to join in the same type of activities.  When we "mirror" one another, we make powerful kung fu type of energetic connections with others.  It is like hugging them without them even knowing.

I went home and told my husband we had to go.  He wanted to know why I was putting on my rubber boots and why I was taking his jack knife.  I told him because I did not have a penis and I couldn't find the axe.

I had planned a nice afternoon of mirroring our neighbours.   We were going to wander into their  yards and pee all over their gardens.   Then we would hunt and kill any of the little wildlife we saw running around.   Next we would scatter their maimed bodies around their yard for them and their children to find.  It was not going to be pretty but it had to be done.  In the name of belonging, it HAD to be done.

Hubby locked the doors.

Apparently peeing, maiming and killing was out.  I suggested we could get a  bullwhip and learn how to use it and work it hard at 4 AM when we get up and everyone else is still sleeping? 

He didn't buy that either.  He said we did not have a bullwhip.  I showed him my talent of snapping belts, not as loud, but any sound repeated continuously long enough can cause insanity ... We just had to be really committed.

He hid the belts.

Well I was exhausted.  I didn't know what else we could do to join in with the normal activities of our neighbours, except we could be really rude to one another and ignore each other but that seemed ridiculous, how could we ignore them when they are ignoring us?

lemon night 3

 In the end I had to just go to bed knowing that not only did I not fit in with the world around me, I failed  "belonging school."   I doubt they were ever going to invite me back anyway, they could tell I was not really hugging them back.  Evidently, some of them had difficulty trying to hold my limp body up so I wouldn't slump to the ground.  I can't help it.  I am Canadian and  we are trained from the time we are children how to play dead.  It is a survival skill.  I was surviving.

SKIN:  [LoveMe Skins] Jessica Skin - Bronze @SKIN Fair 2015
FEET:  SLink
HAIR:  *Dura-BoysandGirls*53(Dark Brown)
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MAKE-UP:  +Nuuna+ Iizi Makeups
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EYES:  Egozy.Eyes Enigmatic Collection  Brown
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PLACE:  Hyde Park