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.

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Which is why I cry at most weddings.

If any of you were wondering.

Drowning kittens do that to me, every time.


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                    ATIA's Beauty Marks
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Monday, April 13, 2015

Could Someone Just Please Explain The Seventies to Me.

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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]
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Saturday, April 11, 2015

Making the Most Out of Those Motorcycle Moments.

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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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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
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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
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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
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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.

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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
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