AVAST! Today be ‘Talk Like A Pirate Day’!!

 

Avast ye scurvy worm ridden land bastids! Today be talk like a pirate day! *cough* Oh the silver screen drama… Heh heh.

Anyhow, in honor of the day, I started thinking about rum. (what else is new? As if I need a day declared to rationalize this…) I was thinking about rum, and the fact that even though it may be 5 o’ the clock SOMEWHERE, it was not even past breakfast HERE.

My train of thought was chugging away as usual, and as usual when I am beginning to think about a new piece of art or writing I begin to mutter ‘Hamlet’s Soliloquy’. One thing led to another and I came up with a fabulous shot of rum goodness, named….HAMLET’S SOLILOQUY. Yes yes. I KNOW it is talk like a pirate day, but really. How cliche …rum…pirates? Ha ha ha ha! Besides…it’s in a shot and I can turn it into a drinking game involving the lines.

So, in honor of ‘Talk Like a Pirate Day’, My deviations today include a short bit of advice and a Eulogy of sorts. And a fabulous invention that sounds good in theory, but may be simply rancid and horrific in practice. I’ll let you know as soon as I try it. I need to replenish one of the ingredients. Why are you looking at me like that? It may or may not be rum…maybe.

Why is it Talk Like a Pirate Day? (Mind starts racing at all the other ‘pirate themed’ days it could be.

Anyway…dragging these from the depths of Davy Jone’s Locker… Enjoy! And may fair winds fill yer sails. ~Captain RagDoll

ODE TO CAPTAIN PLATY: A EULOGY FOR A BLOG
Captain RagDoll of the ship “Thalion” is called to say a few words in honor of the dearly departed blog. A dark haired pirate sitting amongst a group known as ‘The Shout Boxers’ stands up. She strides up to the podium garbed in black. She is wearing a black leather tricorn hat (if you look closely you can see the embossed outline of a skull and crossed swords) adorned with an ebony ostrich plume. A black sash replaces the scarlet one that usually adorns her waist. Her ‘fancy’ sword hangs at her side, and a black ribbon in honor of Cap’n Platy and his recent foray into fencing adorns the hilt. This is a solemn occasion that calls for ‘fancy dress’. She clearly has taken fashion tips from the ‘Dread Pirate Robert’ what with the long sleeved black shirt, dark pants and black leather boots. She removes her hat, nods towards the gathered crowd, takes a deep breath (As deep as her black leather corset will allow) and…

She begins to speak…

Captain, oh fellow Captain! Oh wonderful blog that we knew so well as ‘The Platypus Society’! In the grand scheme of the Blogosphere, we hardly knew ‘ye.

*Blows schnoz enthusiastically into starched hanky after choking down sobs*

No longer shall we meander the halls of such a fine vessel of writing. No longer shall there be merriment, no longer shall there be such interesting bits of World Wide Web linkage. Oh where, oh where shall the epic poem ‘Rhyme of the Senile Bus Patron’ reside? No more shall we be able to kept up to date on the antics of idiots naming animals such things as Zonkeys. Who shall teach us such fine drinking games? Without your inspiration, I would never have had so much fun watching American Idol. Do you remember?

Pick a judge. Everytime your judge says a certain word everyone else takes a drink. Here are the words:

Simon: Competition
Randy: Dog or Yo (pick one)
Paula: Love (pick one)

Whenever any judge uses the word “absolutely” everyone drinks. It should make watching the show much more enjoyable.
Ahh.Good Times.

*Sighs and dabs at eyes with corner of hanky. No, not the corner used to blow nose. Eyeliner is now flowing freely down cheeks a la Tammy Faye.*

Why were you taken from us so soon? You were such a fine blog. A merry blog; an informative blog; a serious blog. And you were such a source of humor. Why, I remember one post, *insert half choked forced laughter here* in which you posed the question, “What would happen if Satan’s turtle ate the Virgin Mary Grilled Cheese?” Why, you even suggested that Goldenpalace.com buy the turtle to make the showdown happen. That question had me occupied for hours! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!

*Begins to wail. Is comforted by mediumlargephil and other ShoutBoxers while Cap’n Jeff tosses RagDoll a fancy new bandana. The Tammy Faye look is beginning to scare the children. She bravely collects herself, and attempts to go on.*

Are there to be no more careless shantys? No more swigs of mental grog? Because of you I became aware of the existance of Darth Tater! *Breaks down into hysterics* I jes’ can’t go on! It’s too difficult! PLEASE! Not the male enhancement ads! Noooo! Not the pictures of the cat! *Sob*sniff*hearty nose blowing*

*Is finally led away and helped back to her seat. Nearly sits on sword, and sobs give way to rampant cursing. Remains in seat for rest of eulogies.*

On the prevention and alleviation of Sea Sickness

I have been set the task of a bit o’ writin by Cap’n Jeff who claims the fair waters of Hawai’i as ‘is home port. I have decided to set down a bit o’ advice. On the prevention and alleviation of Sea Sickness: Ahoy, landlubbers! So ye be wantin’ to sail the seas do ye? What’s that? Ye not be havin’ yer sea legs yet and suffer from that malady known as sea sickness? Since this be no true sickness or disease, it be best to keep the followin’ in mind. And do not be feelin’ too bad, any mariner worth ‘is salt has had a bout with the ailment at one point.

• Tis prudent to be fixin’ yer sights upon the horizon or land if ye be within sight of it. Refrain from looking all around ye, as tempting as it may be, else ye will most likely be burdened with the cold sweats and the urge to feed the fish as ye hang over the gunwale. (Fer the love of the sea, if ye do be feelin’ poxied, be sure and do everyone a favor and keep the deck clean, else ye will be shark bait as soon as ye be done swabbing the deck of yer mess!)
• Avoid the urge to retire to yer quarters to lie down. I do be assurin’ ye thet ye’d be inviting the sickness to become worse. Ye will soon be feelin as if ye were ‘bout to visit Davy Jones Locker.
• Wear a Pressure Point Therapy Wrist Band. The wise acupressure practitioners of the Orient did be havin’ a good prevention. Ye can use this along with any remedy with no ill effect .
• Have a bit o’ginger in any form that do be agreeable to ye. Pills, candy, cookies or jes plain raw.
• Partake of some Rolaids ®. If ye be slightly ill, this may help, but the Gods save ye if ye be more than that. This magic pill will help to neutalize the acids in yer’ belly, hopefully suppressing the burn as ye lose yer lunch.

As much as yer mates do be wishin’ to spin yarns, sing chantys, splice the mainbrace and partake of grog the night before ye weigh anchor and set sail, ye may be wantin’ to take it easy. Especially if ye do be havin’ difficulty holding yer rum. A hangover at sea will make you beg to Dance with Jack Ketch (The hangman)! So thar ye have it. Cap’n Jeff, I believe I have completed me task per our accord. I tip me hat to ye. May fair winds fill yer sails.

Arda never saw anything like this…

And then she said “…and Balrogs shoot flowers and butterflies out of their bung-holes…” in response to something she apparently did not believe. (Lady Atanone- RP character at www.taliessin.bravehost.com  if you visit, stop in at the Great Gates and say hello. You don’t have to register to post, but if you do you have access to all the tales etc.)

Drawn and colored quickly on a dare. All because someone said that it was not a mental image she needed. Well, they say a picture will last longer…*grins and runs*

I do not own balrogs, I am merely borrowing them from Tolkien and Arda. Hmmm, I don’t really own flowers and butterflies either…

Curiosity Killed The Cat…I was just the accomplice

Because I KNOW Misha wants me to share this….

I love my sisters. My youngest sister gets the benefit of all my love without the teasing, but the ‘Middle’ bore the brunt of all my creative torments. *cough* I mean ATTENTION. Yeah, attention. That is the word I was searching for. Suffice it to say I am surprised that she still speaks to me. A child’s curiosity is a wonderful thing. The power of suggestion, in the hands of an imaginative pre-teen is a dangerous tool.

Sharing the gift of story with a loved one

Have you ever read ‘Little Women’? Do you remember the part in the story in which the characters tell the tale of the kids who were left alone? The last thing their mother told them was to ‘Not put beans in their nose’. In any case, it was a lesson on how the power of suggestion could drive someone to do something they otherwise would have no intention of doing. I decided to put it to the test one day.

• Me: Misha, you want to hear a story?
• Misha: OK!
• Wolf in Sheeps Clothing: OK, there once was a Mommy who had to go to the store. (Work with me here. I totally ripped the idea off and retold the story using the basic idea. Of course the story is not written verbatim, that was a LONG time ago!) The Mommy had 3 kids, and told them to behave while she was gone. She told them they could watch TV, play games, and eat whatever they wanted. BUT, they were not to open the door to strangers, and NO MATTER WHAT, they were NOT allowed to put beans in their noses. ‘Why not? Asked the kids. Because if you do,’ the Mommy said,’ then a magic beanstalk will grow out of your nose.’
• Innocent kid without a clue to evil sisters motive: WHAT? Why would they want to put a bean in their NOSE anyway?
• Calculating future con-artist: SHH! Because! Don’t interrupt me, or I won’t tell you the story.
• Poor little girl, she has no idea: OK! Finish the story.
• 12 year old on the fast track to delinquincy: Anyway, she left them at home, and they did everything the Mommy said they could do. They watched TV, played tag, ate ice cream, and didn’t answer the door when the doorbell rang. All of a sudden the youngest one was crying, and picking his nose. He kept crying and saying his nose hurt. The oldest one said “OOO! You put a bean in your nose! Mom said not to. ” The kids tried and tried to get the bean out of their brothers nose but it was stuck. When the Mommy got home, she saw the older kids with tweezers and a popsicle stick, trying to get the bean out of the youngest kids nose. ‘I wanted to see a magic beanstalk!’ sobbed the youngest kid.’ ‘It was just a story!’ said the Mommy, as she grabbed a crochet hook and stuffed it up the kids nose. She hooked the bean out of his nose, gave him some aspirin and sent all the kids to bed with no dinner. All the kids were sad, and the youngest kid looked like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer for a week. The End.
• Unimpressed kid: That story was stupid.
• Liar*cough* I mean storyteller: So what? Don’t go putting beans in your nose, or you’ll get a crochet hook stuck in you nose, or a beanstalk will grow out of your nose.

At this point, I thought that my experiment failed, and went on my merry way in pursuit of some fun diversion. A few hours later Misha is screaming, and my Mom is cursing ‘Why in the hell did you put a damn bean in your nose?’ No intelligible sounds are coming from my sister, merely a screaming howl, so I venture into the kitchen to see what is going on. My sister is sitting (pinned down) in my Nana’s lap and my Mom is aiming a flashlight up her nose, while trying to fish out the bean with tweezers.

• Mom: Did you put a bean up your sisters nose?
• Me: NO! Why would I do that?
• Irritated Parent: I don’t KNOW! Did you tell her to put a bean in her nose?
• Truth-bender: No. I did NOT tell her to put a bean in her nose. (Well, I DIDN’T.)

My Mom eventually got the bean out of her nose, and Misha never did confess her reason for stuffing it up there in the first place. Only I knew better, and I also knew that I was lucky to have my hide intact.

Misha and the Nestle’s Chocolate Quik ‘Factory’

 

I fondly remember the time that I convinced my sister that Chocolate Quik was harvested from our garden. (Nestle’s Quik is powdered chocolate flavor for milk , just in case you weren’t familiar with the stuff.) She must have been about 4 years old, making me 12, and old enough to know better. My friend Yvonne and I were in the front yard, trying our best to ignore the pre-kindergarten bundle of pestering questions, when a devious thought popped into my head.

• Me: Hey Misha!
• Naive Little Sister(playing “Barbie” in the dirt under the Juniper): What??
• Evil Sister: I bet you didn’t know that your playing in Nestle’s Quik. You better not mess it up!
• Suspicious Child: Na’ahh! I don’t believe you. It comes from the store!
• Evil Sisters partner in crime: It does too come from the garden! My Mom buys all our Quik from your Grandpa! It tastes better.
• Lying like a rug big sister: See? I told you. *grabs a bit of dirt and pretends to eat it* You don’t know what you are missing.

At this point, Yvonne and I innocently move our attention to the lawn a few feet a way. Misha still seems unconvinced, but we noticed that she leans over to grab a sample of the ‘Quik’.

• Suckered Innocent: *Phhhhbbbtttttt! SPIT-SPIT-SPIT* EWWWWW! You LIARS! I HATE YOU! *runs into house screaming something about ‘You’re gonna get it!’
• Pair of heathens: HA HA HA HA HA!

Hi. I’m Renee, and I’m a Shoe-aholic.

I think I can classify my penchant for shoes as an actual addiction. Or a fetish. Or both. I CAN NOT walk through a store or mall and avoid the shoe department. Sis I mention I HEART shoes?

When I people watch, I inspect their shoes. I google shoes. I browse shoes on eBay and www.zappos.com. Don’t even get me started on www.pinupgirlclothing.com. My favorite picture of me from the past weekend at a truck show is a close up of my shoes and the front of a truck.

And! This is not even TOUCHING the ‘need’ to buy matching nylons, stockings and socks for said shoes. Cuban toed, back-seam nylons anyone? Fishnet? How about those cute socks with the bows?

Imagine my delight when I discovered the clearance links at www.target.com. DANGEROUS. I found these two beauties. Of course I adopted them, and they were delivered by my friend the UPS man for less than $15. That’s a savings of 75a% baby!

So, here are my newest additions to my closet. Say ‘hello’ to my turquoise wedge heeled sandals and UBER sexy ‘zeebah’ print peep toe stacked heel pumps. (Yes , I had to throw in that super technical ’shoe terminology’.  You shoe connoisseurs will understand…)

Meme me! What’s your Gangsta name?

OK, so I’m bored and this is what caught my fancy. Thank you Courtney! *smooches*

1. Your real name?

(Insert eye roll here)

2.Your GaNgStA Name: (first 4 letters of real namE)
Rene (not sure how hard core that is…make my name the male version, OoOO, so Gangsta!)

3. YOUR SPY NAME: (fav color and fav animal)
Red Falcon (and I know a couple of you are going to comment, and here is my rebuttal. BLACK IS NOT A COLOR!  It is the shade of objects that do not reflect light in any part of the visible spectrum.)

4. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (ur middle name and street u live on)
Jeanine Central

5. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name)
Tolre

6. YOUR SUPERHERO NAME: (Your 2nd favorite color, and favorite drink)
Olive Hurricane (Or Rum and Coke…depends on how I want my Rum)

7. YOUR IRAQI NAME: (2nd letter of your first name, 3rd letter of your last name, 1st letter of your middle name, 2nd letter of your moms maiden name, 3rd letter of you dads middle name, 1st letter of a siblings first name, and last letter of your moms middle name)
Eljayna  (Ha! Sounds as if I shouold be a luchadora.. I AM EL JAYNA!!!

8. YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (parents middle names)

Maria Reyes (I see a theme here…)

9. YOUR GOTH NAME: (black, and the name of one of your pets)
Black Sashimi (oooo sexy)

10. YOUR PORN STAR NAME: (the name of your first pet & the name of the street you grew up on)
Misty Copal  (All hail the porn starlet, it’s almost a cliche!)

My Horrorscope of the day…

courtesy of www.edgarandellen.com….

“Don’t waste your time regretting the past. Instead, spend this time planning for the future and give someone else something to regret.”

Self Portraiture = Catharsis and hours of entertainment. (Or is that hair pulling?)

Start with a photo, add emotion, inspiration and a free photo editing program that comes with your scanner and blend. Add liberal amounts of experimentation and see what you get. … I had planned on uploading the original photo, but felt this self portrait was more accurate in depicting my emotion.

Turmoil by ~TheLoremistress on deviantART

Fast Track to Angryville…Pet Peeve of The Day (PPoTD)

Rule of the house. Because I am  OCD that way, and grossed out easily by some things, but oddly intrigued by others.

ALL food waste, empty bottles, cartons, boxes, or anything with food remains , goes DIRECTLY outside to the trash can. The one that is a short distance from the front door.

WHY? Because I can’t stand it when you create a happy humping ground for fruit flies in the garbage pail beneath the sink! Who in their right mind does? It’s not as if we have creatures whose daily diet requires them. Even if we DID, I am not about to host a brothel for their dinner! Just say no to insect nurseries.

Again. Is this too much to ask? I personally do not see this as a nagging thing. I think of this as a HEALTH issue. It’s nasty. I’ll tell you what. IF you insist on having food rubbish inside the house because you are too lazy to walk a few feet to the trash can outside, how about we store the garbage pail in your CAR? Sounds like a good idea to me…

OMGs! Look what I found while wandering the archives!!

STOP, DROP, and ROLLLLLLL!!!! (among other things I have learned lately.)

I have been on hiatus for quite a few weeks now. I am currently caring for my Grandparents out in the middle of beautiful Calaveras County, California. (Yes, home of Mark Twain’s famous jumping frogs.) While away from home, out in the middle of nowhere, I have realized a few things. I am sure there are more, but here is my list for now.

• I have a sneaking suspicion that there is a pile of mail that was supposed to get to the post office some time ago, but was forgotten when I was home last, some 5 weeks ago or so.
• This lame (Dell) laptop computer I brought with me is a giant piece of crap. It is a craptastic tribute to technology. The settings are screwed up so that I can’t even click to SEND email, or even check my Comcast account. I forgot the admin password because I am lame, and can’t even reinstall the OS. (Believe me, I have spent HOURS trying. Why didn’t I take the good laptop?)
• I can live out of a suitcase.
• I can live without access to fast food, department stores and most manners of convenience.
• Tuna and I are no longer friends. Pears are not my friends anymore, either.
• I can live without Jamba Juice, and beauty salons.
• I can live without DSL (even though it irks me that dial-up is painfully slow, and the laptop I brought prevents me from checking my Comcast email and a few websites.
• I can tolerate being jarred awake at O’Dark Thirty by a rooster I SWEAR lives under my bedroom window.
• 2 year olds can outrun their Moms any day. Especially when it is more fun to run around in the red clay dirt with white socks on at naptime.
• Tons of grasshoppers are a fact of life out in the middle of nowhere. It is funny to watch the chickens chase them around their pen, and crash into the food dish or the fence. It is NOT funny when one jumps into your hair and you can’t reach it to knock it free. Instead, you must run around the yard in circles screaming ” Aggghhhh! Get it off! Get it off! Get it OFFF!’ while your Grandfather laughs at you before swatting you on the head with a garden glove.
• I can walk outside barefoot and not be freaked out when I accidentally kick a tree frog across the driveway.
• It is a good idea to check for spiders BEFORE you crawl around your mustang that has been sitting under a cover for a few months. Especially when it is parked next to a pond. There may be frogs in there as well.
• It is prudent to check one’s shoes before stuffing one’s feet in them after leaving them on the porch overnight. It is VERY unpleasant to put your shoes on, only to discover a lizard, spider or frog has taken up residence in them. It is however, cheap entertainment for a 2 year old to watch his Mama dance around screaming ‘Ewwwwwww!’ while making funny faces..
• It is NOT a good idea to gorge oneself on fresh figs picked from the tree on the side of the house. You pay for it later.
• The view from the dining room is wonderful. Especially during electrical storms.
• I can spend all night on the front porch gazing at the universe without city lights and smog marring my view.
• I love the landscaping. The abundance of ancient Oaks and moss covered boulders dotting the rolling hills covered in wild grasses and brush is stunning.
• The surroundings here are conducive to creative writing. If I can finish my outline and notes on “Last Request” I’ll be able to finish the actual writing of the story in no time.
• It is not a good idea to cook while exhausted. And if you do, it is a good thing when one has fire suppression experience, and a bra made of fire retardant material…

Ok…I know what you are thinking. ‘WHAT was that last thing you said?’ Yes. I said, ‘bra made of fire retardant material.’ Let me set it up for you.

Now, seeing as I am far from home, and at least an hour or so drive to a decent shopping venue, I took it upon myself to do some heavy duty cooking to stave off boredom. You know, the kind of recipes that take a huge amount of effort and prep time? One of the things that I decided to make was ‘Lumpia’. For those of you not in the know, I guess you can say they are the Filipino version of ‘Eggrolls’. Now, as it was, I was making what my sister lovingly refers to as the ‘Cheaters Version’ , meaning I used ground meats and frozen veggies. However, the most time consuming part is wrapping them, so by the time I was at the actual cooking stage, I was very bored and tired.

There I was, standing in front of the stove tending to a batch of lumpia, frying merrily away in a frying pan with about an inch or so of cooking oil. It was an electric stove, so I wasn’t too concerned about stove-top conflagrations. Now, what exactly happened next, I am not too sure of. All I know, is that being short, the top of the stove was almost at boob height, and I was holding a paper towel in one hand (I am guessing in front of my chest.) to wipe up errant grease splatters.

Next thing I know, I am thinking to myself. ‘Damn! My boobs feel hot. Am I having hot flashes? It feels as if I were fighting a fire or standing in front of a campfire… OH SHIT! My boobs are on fire! Bloody Hell! I’m fricking Mrs. Doubtfire!’ I swatted at my chest with a kitchen towel, and tossed the fiery paper towel into the sink.

Meanwhile, my son is pointing and laughing at me. ‘Oh no! Fire! Mama boobies on fire! Mama? What happened to boobies? Ha ha ha! Mama boobies on fire!’ Niiiiiice.

Once I had everything under control, I tossed the burnt tank top into the sink with the kitchen towel and greasy paper towel. Remarkably, my bra appeared unsinged, and I immediately thanked the Gods of Undergarments for a fire retardant bra, saving my ‘girls’ from being set ablaze. At least Robin Williams was wearing falsies when his caught fire. I think I will go invent a breast protector for women, or perhaps just start wearing a nomex jacket when I cook. *sigh!

I CAN SO do ‘Emo’

Wine and insomnia can bring you to very dark places. Not my usual fluffy, fantasy, funnies…

 ~EXPLAIN~

I seek salvation in your arms

 

The comfort of your strength

 

Shelter me from blatant lies

 

Let me drown in your caress

 

Tell me where we’ve met before

 

Explain why it’s so easy to return

 

And why the longing comes with the bliss

Time was never on our side 

 

~BURY ME~

Stab me, poke me, choke me;
Don’t tell me what to say.
Thrill me, please me, tease me;
Your intentions you mislay.
Taunt me, spurn me, scorn me;
Throw my heart away.
Love me, want me, crave me;
My heart you will betray.
Stop me, hold me, scold me;
Pretend everything’s OK.
Hold me, hear me, believe me
I won’t beg you to stay.