It’s not the heat, it’s the humanity
Bless me, Flying Spaghetti Monster, for I have sinned. It’s been days since my last real post. I have been a bad blogger (and I just now typed bag blogger, as if I’m trying furiously to key my way out of a brown paper sack). I didn’t participate in my own Poetry Friday last week and on Saturday posted some lame-ass excuse for a Poetry Friday post…on my own donated word. I haven’t been trolling my usual hot-spots. I haven’t been commenting on blogs, not even with inane banter or weak sexual innuendo. I have been avoiding internet linkage of any kind and was forced…FORCED, I tell you…to view a YouTube offering yesterday by a co-worker.
It must be the heat.
My only salvation has been in frequent fantasies of a nekked Colin Firth and gallons of sugar-free lemonade.
I implore you, oh almighty FSM, to forgive my past sins and any I make this week, as I am still recuperating from The Long Weekend Without Children, and am what the kids nowadays call ‘fucked in the head’. I will do my penance by promising to read at least four blogs a day, every day, and commenting at least once. Unless I can turn the boss onto online porn distraction, in which case there will be two comments a day.
In your multi-tentacled name, Ramen.
Now dispensing with the false churchiness, a list approacheth.
1) Wasabi peas. Beware the imitators. Several weeks ago I purchased, at my local Imported Comestibles Shop, a packet of Wasabi Peas. So the Germans would have us believe. For when I got home and ripped open the package, throwing a handful of coated peas in my mouth, I discovered a lie of utter packaging importance…no wasabi. NO WASABI. Then the actual real and live copy on the package caught my eye…”Covered Peas”. Just covered, mind you, with some sort of pixie dust, or asbestos, or chunks of old wallpaper paste. (Yes, yes, I know, it was a wheaty mixture of some caloric insignificance, but the misrepresentation of the proper product irked me so.) During The Long Weekend Without Children, Sergei and I hopped into Fantastic Anime Emporium where, joy of bloody joys, they offered up packages of real honest wasabi peas (“HOT!”), six dollars for a package as big as my knobby head. I have eaten them every day. I am in love with them, and would bear their juicy green offspring given the chance to, well, bear juicy green offspring.
2) “Widdershins” was the random word of the day offered up on M-W today. What a naughty word. What a stupid word. Left-handed = Wrong? What curious planet are YOU from, alien traveler?
3) I have spring hair. Sproingy boing-boing Oingo sausage link hair caused by the terrible humidity and impending threatening clouds of rain and thunderboomers. I can pull down these curly masses so they touch the top of my breasteses, and then release them like Wile E. Coyote spring boots and they whack conveniently and smartly against my noggin. People pay good money to have their hairs permed such as mine, and whine and complain when it rains on their unpermed locks and straightens them out to pre-cooked angel hair consistency. Mine, OTOH, make me look like a picture of Shirley Temple on Silly Putty which has been stretched and widened to resemble a Person of Some Aged Years. I should take a photo.
4) I got a new tattoo. I should take a photo.
5) I am still imagining Colin Firth naked. (Damn you Bridget Jones, you and your sequel.) Colin Firth. And that French soccer goalie. And Mike Doughty for good measure.
6) Note to self…buy new sports bra…’cause…damn…must be jelly ‘cause jam don’t shake like that….