Just When You Thought it was Safe to Go Back in the Water...

So I bought DK a paddle pool.

What can I say? She's easily impressed.

Fortunately, the pool came with this detailed set of instructions for usage.

For those of you not fluent in the universal language of diagram, I offer the following interpretation.

The figure on the the right is clearly me. You can tell that it's me, in spite of the absence of neck, because of the perfectly rendered droopy breasts. That's precisely what they look like when I bend over like that, although generally, I roll them up and stuff them inside a padded t-shirt bra. In case you doubt me, although I'm not sure why I'd lie about this, my BFF, Wes, likes to call me 'Monkeytits'. It's okay, he gave me this for Christmas.

He can call me whatever the hell he wants. Isn't that right, Pigface? That's my hand there in the photo, because if I don't have skin to skin contact with it at all times, I begin to feel less of a person.

Anyhoo, the quarter-circle must be the pool because this came with the pool, so I'm guessing it has something to do with the pool, you know?

The little zigzag things are obviously birds. They're swimming with that gingerbread man. The gingerbread man's head has fallen off because they're Goddamn little heads ALWAYS fucking fall off and then you have to try to kind of squish them back on before you put them in the oven. Then when they're cooked and you try to take them off the tray, their heads fall off again and then you have to stick them on with icing, but they just fall off again, so next time you make gingerbread elephants, because they don't have necks, but, oh crap, DO NOT get me started on those bloody trunks.

So, to sum up, this graphic instruction sheet clearly states: 'Should you find a gingerbread man (with it's head detached, naturally) floating in your paddle pool where birds are swimming, simply lean forward and shoot lasers from your eyes and, for goodness' sake, put a bra on, Woman.'

This has been a public service announcement from tinsenpup for the benefit of humankind. Don't try to tell me I'm not making a difference.

You Know You're a Crap Blogger When...

...Other bloggers (nicer, more dedicated and far more supportive than me) feel the need to perform welfare checks, because you've been MIA for so long. - Thank you, Givinya, we are hanging on in there.

For some reason, it's quite reassuring to think, were I ever to sever an artery while shaving my legs, that as I lay bleeding to death on the cold cold tile of the bathroom floor and DK, lost in a fog of only-child helplessness, slowly starved, that a friendly query, characterised by mild concern, would be sitting, poignantly unopened, in my inbox.

Were my life a movie, it would fade to black with me drawing my final breath, one leg partially shaved, as DK intones, "I'm hungry...What do you have to eat?" In the foreground would be my laptop with a little notifier flashing, "You've got mail! You've got mail!" in a poignant manner. My computer doesn't actually do that, of course, but I'm sure we could hire someone to rig something up for the scene.

* * *

The first time a stranger on the Internet said, "I Y you" to me, it kind of freaked me out. I had no idea how to respond to that, so I just squealed a little then closed chat. Then, with a little processing, I began to comprehend the subtle distinction between "I love you" and "I heart you". 

As I understand it (and let's face it, I'm fairly clueless much of the time), "I love you" means, "I have wild and crazy feeling for you (in spite of your many failings) that make my head feel all blurry and send blood rushing to my pink bits, so let's get naked and make (adopt, foster or borrow) babies or possibly just buy a puppy. Although seriously, don't turn up to your adoption interview naked (or the pet shop for that matter); it's a really bad idea. Alternately, it might also mean, "You are the baby/puppy I made/adopted/fostered/borrowed and primal forces make me want to simultaneously eat you alive, while protecting you from all things that would eat you alive.

(As an aside, if, for some reason, you feel the need to express extreme fondness for friends or family outside of the above scenarios, you would simply drop the "I" and throw "Love yoooooo!" out casually as you wind up a phone conversation or visit. In order to avoid awkwardness or an uncomfortable emotional exchange, wait until the last possible moment - perhaps as the car is pulling away - to share this. Similarly, you could just down a bottle and a half of red wine, drape your arms around friends' shoulders and slur, "I love yousse guys...I really do..." immediately before falling into unconsciousness.)

"I heart you," on the other hand, means, "Given that you're little more than an imaginary friend to me, I don't actually have to deal with any of your failings, so it's quite easy to feel very fond of you. I feel fairly confident that you pose no physical danger to me and I could probably stand to meet you in real life...in a public place, of course...with mace in my bag...just in case...you know..."

You see, in terms of word usage, there are subtle, but important differences. Thus, I can feel almost completely comfortable saying for the first time ever, "I heart you, Givinya, but I don't want to buy a puppy with you, although perhaps one day, I may grow to less than three you."

This Road

Let's get this clear now, because it seems the next chapter is about to begin.

This road that lies before me sometimes seems to lie in wait.

My life is an eternal crossroads.
A constant interruption.
A failure of potential.
And a triumph over the inevitable.

My life is bitter resentment for all that will never be.
And bewildered gratitude that I have so much more than I have any right to expect.

My life is all compulsion.
But not without the agony of indecision.
It is a vast exercise in self-sabotage.
And is all too often about anger and anxiety.

My life is never, ever enough.

PROMPTuesday - What I was Doing at 6am

It's PROMPTuesday and San Diego Momma has proclaimed that participants should write a holiday limerick. I actually overlooked the word 'holiday' and wrote about what I was dealing with at 6am this morning. Rather than write another, (because, obviously, I put a LOT of work into this one) I'm getting around the problem by declaring today International Horny Guinea Pig Day. Feel free to take the day off work or school to celebrate in whatever way you see fit. Perhaps you'd like to write a commemorative limerick, like me. There. Now technically it's an official holiday, because it says so on the Internet.

There were three little piggies, most randy

For whom making babies was better than candy.

They escaped from their hutches,

(Thank goodness in batches)

And were trapped with whatever was handy.

Not Hiding, Linking Excessively

Weirdly, two wonderful bloggers gave me awards this week. This makes me feel extremely pleased, but also a little panicked and breathless and hot around the eyes. I love compliments. They make me really happy, but they also make me want to go to bed and pretend to be asleep. So please bear with me.

Thankfully they both came with instructions, so I'm going to take deep breaths and work my way through slowly.

Chris at Csquaredplus3 passed on this one...

The equally wonderful Punk Rock Dad created this alternate badge for those who might balk at fluffy and fabulous:



This award comes with the following rules:

THE RULES
1. You have to pass it on to 5 other fabulous blogs in a post.
2. You have to list 5 of your fabulous addictions in the post.
3. You must copy and paste the rules and the instructions below in the post.

Instructions: On your post of receiving this award, make sure you include the person that gave you the award and link it back to them. When you post your five winners, make sure you link them as well. To add the award to your post, simply right-click, save image, then “add image” it in your post as a picture so your winners can save it as well. To add it to your sidebar, add the “picture” widget. Also, don’t forget to let your winners know they won an award from you by emailing them or leaving a comment on their blog.

Five Fabulous Addictions
That kind of strikes me as a contradiction in terms. I'm guessing that, fabulous or not, writing 'smack' at number one is not really in the spirit of the exercise, so here are five things that are fabulous in one way or another and about which I sometimes feel a little compulsive.

Motherhood – I know it's killing me, Man, but I just keep jonesing for more. I think I need to talk to my dealer though. He's not coming through for me.

Hammond – I can stop any time I want to. I just don't want to, 'cause it feels so damn good.

Music – Right now I'm feeling no pain, listening to Ben Lee's 'Ripe'.

Reading blogs – Far more so than writing them, sadly. - Just one more, Man. One more blog and I'll be cruising.

Having the whole fucking world at my fingertips – I was made for the Internet age. - Woah, Man, it's like the meaning of life is right there just waiting to be Googled.

Five Fabulous Blogs
Killing a fly with a ukulele is probably the wrong thing to do – Givinya's was the first blog I ever commented on...but only because she made me. She was also the first person to comment on tinsenpup and has been supportive ever since. She is clever and funny and a wonderfully positive presence.

San Diego Momma – I think she gets about 15 of these a week, but she must be told. She is a wonderful writer and storyteller with a delightfully witty and under-stated style. She is also amazingly supportive of other bloggers, at the very least giving us something to write about every Tuesday. I would also like to take the opportunity to politely request that she please finish writing her novel so that I can read it.

Callapipper Tree – This is totally a conflict of interests, but she had me early on with this powerful post. She also completed NaBloPoMo in her second month as a blogger, which just makes the rest of us (ie. me) look bad.

Ordinary Art – Hmm... What can I say? The quality of the writing here is extraordinary and oh, what a journey. This blog often (as now) renders me utterly speechless.

Seed Book – I just love this blog; it' smart and wickedly funny. It was also the first ever blog on my blogroll.

**********************

Ali from Callapipper Tree gave me this one...

...with the following instructions:

Say one nice thing to a man in your life.

Only one man in my life reads this, so Wes, I know that it's sometimes frustrating for you to see me working so hard to keep you at arms' length, but the truth is, I really don't know what would have happened had I not had your consistent support these past nine years. Thanks.

List at least six ways that you measure success in your life (or for your blog).

1. Is DK calm, happy, healthy, well rested and engaged?

2. Am I calm, happy, healthy, well rested and engaged?

3. Have I been kind to and patient with DK?

4. Have I prepared fabulous food for us to eat?

5. Have our social needs been met?

6. Have we supported all the wonderful people who support us?

7. Do I have money in the bank?

For my blog, there's just one:

8. Did I write something?

Assign this award to six other blogs and leave them a comment telling the blogger that you’ve assigned them this award.
1. Csquaredplus3 - Another conflict of interests. This is a beautifully written blog and Chris has a real gift for engaging the reader and drawing them into a dialogue.

2. Dragons Guinea Pigs and Friends – I award this on merit alone. Nepotism has absolutely nothing to do with it. Baby, I'm very proud of you. You have worked so hard and learned so much in the last month. I can't wait to see some of your recent writing posted on your blog.

3. Blog This Mom! – Cheri is the complete package as a writer. She is constantly surprising me with something new. This one, in particular, has stayed with me. It speaks to the literature student in me. I have to fight the urge to run off and write an essay on it.

4. Always Going, Going, Going on Beyond - In spite of also being a sensational writer, Michael knows how to create impact by letting an image speak for itself. He also has a gift for clever sub-titling that leads the reader to unexpected connections.

5. Breed 'em and Weep – Another amazing writer. I don't think that even she realises what important work she is doing over there right now.

6. Don Mills Diva - Beautiful, slick writing, with a goodly dash of the poetry of life thrown into the mix.

Link back to the blog that you received this award from.

Callapipper Tree

PROMPTuesday - Rambling...

Today's PROMPTuesday homework assignment asks us to "...think back to when you were 15. Let the year play itself back to you. Pick one memory — even if it’s just a mere moment that stands out — and write about it."

Like San Diego Momma, at the age of fifteen, I was a Catholic school girl. However, if she was "...the guilt-ridden argyle-sock-wearing type who sang church hymns for fun," I think I must have been the other sort. Nevertheless, I too had my first real kiss at fifteen (ew - no, seriously - ew).

He was an Italian exchange student. I met him at some sort of social with the local Catholic boys' school and mi dispiace, Walter, ma sei un maiale, so I'll say no more about that.

Instead, I'm going to cheat. Yeah, I know, clearly I'm rebelling against someone or something (I'll take it up in therapy). I'm posting something I wrote when I was fifteen (or maybe sixteen, I'm not sure. Let's just say fifteen for the sake of the prompt). 

I kept this for nearly two decades, because I like it and I think it's okay to say that, because I wrote it so long ago, it's as if it was penned by someone else and hey, I hope that kid becomes a blogger when she grows up, because she's clearly got a flair for the whole self-indulgent/smart-ass thing.

And with that, I give you...

Rambling...

I opened the door. Walking past me, without looking directly at me, he entered the room and sat in the one chair. It was a nice chair. I'd always liked it - wooden and straight-backed... like me really. I shut the door and stood, regarding him silently for a moment. He looked up suddenly and asked, "Who are you?"

"God," I answered quietly.

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"God."

"I'm not sure."

"You just said you were."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I don't know."

"Oh."

We fell again into the refuge of silence, I regarding him as he in turn regarded me.

At that moment, I decided that he was just a boy and of little consequence to me and that subsequently he should not be sitting in the chair. At the same moment, the boy decided that I was just God after all and rising from the chair, he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

I sat in the chair then and worshipped myself and the ground I walked on, the boy quickly becoming just a faint echo in the vast corridors of my mind.

The Sky is Smiling

Venus, Jupiter and the moon want you to know that the universe is just kidding. If you're in the Southern Hemisphere tonight go outside and give them a wave.